Oshiyoseru Kōzuki!
by G1ll3s
Summary: Even in difficulty, opportunity can arise. After her brother Naoto's heavy crash at the Suzuka Circuit, Kallen Kōzuki is given the opportunity to move up to Grand Prix Racing, where her mettle will be tested like never before. Will she triumph, or will the forces of opposition and competition win out and force her to join her brother? Motorsports AU, domesticated, modern setting.
1. OK1 - Margin Of Error

**OK Number One: Margin Of Error**

* * *

"Here, at Suzuka Circuit, at the conclusion of this Friday morning's first Free Practice session for Sunday's Japanese Grand Prix, I sadly must report that the news has been less than stellar. Twenty minutes into the hour long session which had been plagued by heavy bursts of rain, the Rebellion-Sakura of local driver Naoto Kōzuki crashed heavily at 130R, or turn fifteen out behind the back straight. Eyewitness accounts report the car's front suspension collapsing on entry to the high speed corner, and that the number ten car, which had experienced mechanical maladies that had prevented it from completing the first two races of the season so far, proceeded to spear off the circuit at approximately three hundred kilometers per hour, eventually hitting the tyre wall some way past the run off area. The front left of his car took the brunt of the impact, however as medical services arrived at the scene it was clear that not only had the car sustained heavy damage, but Kōzuki had as well. The session was immediately red flagged, and the driver was removed from the stricken car. After a preliminary examination by the trackside officials, he was airlifted to Mie University Hospital, which has just released a statement as to his condition."

"According to their reports, he sustained major injuries to the chest, shin bone, left hip and both knees and wrists. However, their most pressing concern was that his foot and ankle had been wholly crushed and entombed under the warped metal, forcing them to amputate the extremity. He remains in a critical condition due to this, as well the the combined blood loss and shock, however it is reportedly unlikely that he will succumb to these injuries. However, it does appear that not only does this spell an end to his promising third season in the sport, but it does also appear, based on the severity of his injuries, that it is likely to spell the end of his promising career in Grand Prix racing, which in such a short time has seen five wins, fourteen podiums, and a fourth place in the World Drivers Championship last year."

"In spite of concerns that this crash has raised over safety, the Clerk Of The Course and associated bodies have confirmed Qualifying is to take place tomorrow as per normal, in what is expected to be clear conditions, with all drivers either stating or expected to state that they will be taking part. It is truly a surprise to hear about such a freak injury, particularly in light of the record the sport has been able to build with regards to its rigid standards of safety. The question lies with the Japanese Rebellion-Sakura team, which is now not only forced to find a solution to whatever technical problems their car has, but also a replacement driver to qualify alongside the former two-time World Champion Kyoshiro Tohdoh. Whatever the case may be, this is a sad day for the sport, and a sad day for the Kōzuki family. This has been Diethard Reid, reporting from pit lane."

* * *

It had been a gruelling task reaching Naoto's hospital bed. Between the media swarming the outside of the building and the Students of Mie University haplessly going about their day, access to the Accident and Emergency ward was hard to come across, even for the younger sister of the injured. By the time Kallen Kōzuki had found the room, and the means to enter it, Naoto had gone through two rounds of surgery, and was filled with more drugs than a Russian athlete, but alive, and in a dubious state of consciousness.

The first thing she noticed upon entering the room was her brothers paleness. He had always been bright and perky, almost to a greater extent than her, and was never lacking energy or colour to his cheeks, or character. Even as he turned to see her, smiling dopily, he couldn't hide it with his attempt to inject humour into his voice.

"Heh… hey sis. Bungled that one pretty bad, didn't I?"

Drugs or no, he had been seriously shaken up by the crash. His chuckles were hollow attempts to reassure his sister, however for their hollowness they did not achieve their goal. Not only had he nearly died, which couldn't have been good for his frame of mind, but his career was now over, crushed like his left foot. It had always been his dream to race, and it was over just as he had begun to put in good performances. Kallen moved to embrace her motionless brother, only to be reprimanded by the nurse.

"He's still not stable. Not only is he fresh from surgery, but his immune system is weak. No contact."

Kallen withdrew, absent-mindedly clutching her left arm with her other hand as if to give it something to hold. Naoto was silent, which was the final nail in the coffin as to his changed state. Kallen recalled clearly a plethora of instances where it had been tough to get him to shut up, and yet there was no blood in his face, and no words in his throat. It remained that way for some time, until Naoto, likely realising what effect his silence was having, tried to speak up again through the addleing inhibitors with "At least the sponsors are taking care of the bills. I'm going to pig out on hospital food!"

Kallen sighed at Naoto's obsequiousness, which he finally acknowledged with a slight sigh of his own at the realisation his act convinced no one. He shook his head, and looked down. His false bravado dissipated, and he slowly let out his grievances in a stream of consciousness.

"It was so bloody scary… the car's front end just collapsed, hit the tarmac, and suddenly my wheel felt light, my input not having impact. I was a passenger, and suddenly I was flying towards the wall. There wasn't any time to brace, or move, and suddenly I was in a helicopter."

His explanations tailed off, before he insistently added at the end "At least I'm alive. That could have been really bad."

Kallen shook her head. She didn't even want to contemplate that idea, and so rejected it out of hand. Eager to move on from this morbid note, Naoto asked "So how did your race go? You were up in Fuji, I was hoping to watch it, but I had an unexpected doctors appointment."

"I won, though I couldn't really stick around to celebrate."

That was something of an understatement. Kallen, who raced in the feeder series to Grand Prix racing, had gone out for a race earlier in the day, and was on track while Naoto was crashing and being airlifted. She had only been told after she had left the car at the end of the race, and had rushed to the hospital immediately, missing the podium celebrations.

Naoto chuckled, and added "At least one of us can drive a car."

Kallen shook her head, but also noted that the discussion had restored some of his energy. It seemed as if he was getting back into the practice of being himself, after having spent some time not being so. She finally cracked a smile, though she wasn't certain how to respond. It was clear Naoto wanted to avoid the elephant in the room and enjoy the company of his sister in as normal a fashion as the circumstances would allow, however to either ignore or joke about the elephant seemed to disrespect its significance and importance. However, ultimately she knew Naoto was the one who needed her right now, and so decided to play along.

They had relied on each other for years. Their parents had divorced, and shortly after their mother, who had received custody, disowned Naoto for pursuing a career in motorsport, and Kallen had followed him. They were a team, and would always be there for each other. If Naoto needed her to be normal, perhaps to reassure him that things could in fact ever be normal again, she would provide that for him.

"Eh, you at least made it into Grand Prix racing, I'm still plodding around in GP2."

He chuckled at this in the fashion he was wont to do, his eyes almost shutting to slits, emphasising his smile which reached his ears, further embedding his already prominent laugh lines.

"So how long are you in for?"

Naoto frowned, before replying slyly "It's not a prison sentence you know. In any case, I'm stuck here for four months, and then it's two years of therapy to get back up to speed. On the upside, they've got kick-ass facilities, so I'll be in the lap of luxury."

"Don't get too comfortable, I'm still stuck in the flat-out in Shinjuku."

"Perhaps I crashed to get out of being stuck in there. Certainly much cleaner here. I might stick around for a while" he winked cheekily, obviously being facetious but to a humorous extent. Playing along, she replied in a similar tone.

"That's just because you never clean the dishes like I ask you to."

He feigned outrage, turning his head aside and melodramatically pronouncing "Ach! Why do you scorn me so? I am but a man, one for whom dishes are such a task!"

They had a good laugh over his Shakespearean display, which was in reference to his childlike disdain for household chores. She noted, with some celebration, that his cheeks were now much redder, and it seemed his energy had returned to him, even in spite of his immobilisation under extensive casts and braces.

"In all seriousness, I'll get someone to come around to clean up a few times a week while I'm out. I'll file it under medical expenses, and the sponsors won't notice. I don't like the idea of you being stuck on your own taking care of things, especially in Shinjuku."

Kallen appreciated the gesture, however she waved it off, commenting "I'm not a child, I can take care of myself while you're busy getting pampered."

Naoto rolled his eyes, but persisted "I'm serious. I promised I'd look after you, and I'm not letting a crippling injury get in the way of that. Besides, I can't be the only one mooching off like this. I'd never hear the end of it from you otherwise."

"If you insist" Kallen responded, not wanting to fight him while he was in this state, however she wasn't over the moon about the idea, not being a fan of allowing other people into their private space.

"What's this about mooching off?"

While Naoto, who was laid towards the door, could see the new entrants, Kallen had to turn around to see Taizo Kirihara standing in the door, with Kyoshiro Tohdoh visible behind him. Kirihara was the teams chairperson, while Tohdoh was the lead driver. They had likely come to check on how their number two driver was getting along, entering the room as a pair, forcing Kallen to move towards the back of the room near the head of Naoto's bed as they took up the limited space. Naoto, still admirably quick in spite of all the morphine in his system, answered their concerns with little issue.

"Kallen was just chastising my lightheartedness. Nothing to worry about."

Taizo was unconvinced, however he dropped that line of inquiry as he moved on by asking "We've reviewed the crash footage. Nasty stuff. We think we've isolated the faulty component, but we'd appreciate if you explained what happened, just to be sure."

Kallen saw a slight tensing of Naoto's forearms out of the corner of her eye, and had little doubt that if he had the agency to do so he would be clenching his fists, but nevertheless he answered the question thoroughly, if formally, using very legalistic language as Kallen realised the mood of the room had shifted. Naoto was not enjoying reliving his crash.

However, he answered the question to a standard Taizo seemed to be pleased with, with Tohdoh nodding to affirm some of Naoto's claims about track conditions. Their interactions were very formal, and Kallen felt like a stranger. By the time Taizo had moved on to discussing sponsorship issues created by his absence, this feeling amplified to the point where she felt like the intruder.

"Do.. do you want me to leave?"

Taizo physically turned around to stare down Kallen, not moving his neck an inch in what proved to create a somewhat intimidating stare down. It was as if it was the first time he had seen her, and seemed to be weighing her up visually. He paused for some time, before eventually speaking.

"No… no stay, I feel you have business here."

"Taizo…" Naoto, suddenly outside of the attention of the room, spoke up, seemingly cautioning his employer, however Taizo ignored his driver, continuing "The thing is Naoto, there are a lot of investors who have paid into your seat on this team, and so it is my responsibility to fill it in your absence. Kallen."

Being addressed directly, Kallen stood up to her full height like a military cadet faced with a four star general, as the simile was not so inaccurate. Kirihara could make or break careers, and Kallen had no intention of making a bad impression on the person who could be her ticket into Grand Prix racing. She quickly answered "Yes sir?"

He paused again, before asking, in what sounded like a rhetorical fashion "You've been doing rather well in GP2, yes?"

She nodded, stiff as a board and answered without thinking "Yes sir, I just won the Fuji race before returning here, sir."

Taizo strikes his chin thoughtfully, seeming to be piecing things together, however Naoto, in what was a surprisingly aggressive tone, spoke up again, approaching a quiet roar as he interrupted "Taizo, don't you dare. She's just after seeing me fly off the road, and you want to put her in straight after me?"

Kallen, who had looked aside to see Naoto's anger, now turned back to Taizo as she worked out what they were on about. This could be her chance to get a drive, and she had no intention of letting it slip away. Enthusiastically, unable to contain herself, she began to interrupt Naoto with a gasp of "I-"

However, she then stopped herself. She was getting a drive off of her brothers misfortune, and that was hardly something to get excited over. However, Taizo spotted the brief moment of lapse, and raised his eyebrow as he inquired further.

"Yes? What say you? Trust me, we've solved the problems with the car, and I for one feel that you deserve the drive."

"Stop bloody pressuring her into it Kirihara, let her alone, at least until we've all calmed down."

It was Naoto's way, and one not unfounded, to react harshly to people offering what he deemed to be a bad deal to Kallen. It was protective, and well-meaning. However, Kallen was the last person who would be pressured into something she didn't want, and Kallen wanted this an awful lot, as awkward as the circumstances were. The truth was that Naoto was still heavily shaken up from his crash, and that was likely influencing his desire to stop Kallen taking the offer. As much as she hated to do it, she turned to him, and quietly responded "I know what I'm doing."

"Wonderful." Taizo, somewhat wanting for bedside manner, clapped, as Kallen turned back around to face him. Eager to preserve Kallens enthusiastic sentiment, he then asked "So you're ready to start tomorrow? It's a shame, but such is the way things like this go. You'll be starting alongside Tohdoh."

"You should get the hang of it rather quickly."

Kallen turned her head to the right to acknowledge the 2014 and 2015 World Champion, who spoke for the first time. It was certainly a bizarre experience to be addressed directly by someone so venerated, but it was a bizarre day.

* * *

Kallens second reaction to the Rebellion-Sakura Grand Prix car was its size, particularly once she sat into it. Its cockpit was incredibly tight and low, to the point where she struggled to see the front of the car. The entire canopy wrapped around in top of her, with her shoulders and arms enclosed under the head surround. Not an inch was spared at any point. She could only wonder how Naoto, two years older than her, ever managed to fit in this contraption.

Her first reaction was an unintelligible mental squeeing at the sound of the engine starting up, and so she chalked that up as not particularly productive, even if it was a fairly accurate reflection of how she felt about the opportunity. The car buzzed and rocked about, eager for the opportunity to get going, however Kallen knew to wait.

It was a few moments until qualifying session One began, where all drivers would set a time, and the bottom five would be eliminated before the next session. This would repeat until all the drivers had been sorted. Fortunately, the Rebellion car was competitive, and should get out of Q1 with little effort. The objective was more to do laps and get familiar with the car ahead of the race tomorrow.

"Hullo? Kallen, can you hear me?"

The radio was fuzzy, particularly given the competing rumble of the engine in the back of the car, however she could make out the voice of Kaname Ohgi, race engineer to and close friend of her brothers, who would talk her through the running of the car in addition to Tohdoh's help, which proved rather limited. She called back over the radio to affirm she heard him.

"Fantastic, so we can get underway now. Your tyres are warm, so you should be able to push from the get go. Pull out, carefully."

The starting procedure was intricate, but not dissimilar to what Kallen knew. The clutch was split in two parts, on paddles on the back of the steering wheel below another set of paddles which changed the gears. Hold in the two bottom paddles, select first gear, slowly release the left-

Clunk

Stall. She'd stalled the car, letting the engine fall out of the suitable rev range and sending the whole crankshaft to a shuddering halt. This was rather embarrassing, and forced her to wave for help from the pit crew to restart the engine. One cranking later, and she tried the procedure again, this time releasing the lower left paddle as slow as she dared, eventually feeling the cars rear wheels begin to rotate forwards with great resistance. She was under way.

Turning left as she left the garage, she was barraged by instructions from Ohgi to heat the brakes on the entry into turn one, and to be careful. She acknowledged this request, before gently forcing the throttle to full as she left the pit lane, not wanting to spin the wheels. Even with this more gentle approach, the car accelerated viciously, forcing her to brake violently in reaction to the unforeseen turn in speed. The sudden braking locked up the tyres, sending a puff of smoke out from all four corners as they squealed under the heavy forces.

"Is everything alright? You just locked up."

"Yeah…" Kallen breathed out, adrenaline beginning to flow. "Just getting heat into the brakes."

Ohgi laughed, before advising her on the curving Ess section past turn one.

"You're used to GP2 cars, but these beasts have a lot more downforce. You can't take it flat-out, but ideally you shouldn't be braking in this section. Of course, build up to that sort of speed as you feel comfortable. Just don't crash it."

As she finished the long, medium speed right hander of turn one, which at the slow speed she took it seemed to drag on forever, she attempted to follow Ohgi's advice, lifting off the throttle though not braking into the shallow turn three, only for her humble turn in with her steering wheel to send her far further inwards than she had expected, as the car hopped over the kerb and onto the grass with reckless abandon. While she eventually wrestled the car back onto the track, she was still surprised by how responsive the car was. However, as she reached the end of the Esses, she began to get used to the way the car behaved, which could be surmised as twitchy, and even worked up the nerve to take Dunlop without lifting off the throttle by the time she approached the Degner corners. The physical force of the cars ability to turn at high speeds was truly staggering, with the tyres and downforce providing superhuman grip that was almost terrifying. She felt her inner organs be tugged towards the outer side of her body, being pulled to the side by the later G-forces the rapid change in direction induced.

The Degners and the back hairpin all consisted of an exercise in avoiding a lock up, where the brakes were faced with a sudden increase in force and would stick on, under rotating and wearing rapidly. Gentle application was the key, however this was not so different to GP2, with the caveat that the brakes were much more powerful.

Out of the hairpin, Kallen pressed down on the accelerator, now prepared for the power that the warp drive in the back of the racing car would be able to deliver. Eager to impress, the car pulled away at 4 times the acceleration of gravity, squeezing Kallen into her seat as it rocketed along the long, high speed bend of twelve, reaching the Spoon curve within moments.

Familiar with the corner, Kallen forced the car against the apex on entry, swinging out towards the outer edge of the track before rotating back inwards to hit the apex a second time, allowing her to preserve momentum for the back straight and up towards 130R, where Naoto had crashed.

It was supposed to be taken flat, but Kallen had absolutely no intentions of doing so on her first attempt, particularly in light of recent events. She broke on entry, allowing her to take the corner at a more comfortable pace. She felt in her stomach, which was largely unmoved compared to how many G-forces it experienced in the Esses, that there was plenty of more time that could be saved by taking the corner faster, but it was not something she was eager to get into. It was a short run up to the final two corners, a slow pair of right handers leading up to the finish line.

Kallen let out a breath. She had done a lap, and had only made a few scruffy errors, and had only one heart in mouth moment, which was not unjustified. She was feeling confident, a feeling which was emphasised by Ohgi's return to the radio.

"Nice one! Keep up the laps, you've got Prime tyres and four laps of fuel, go do some flying laps."

Kallen didn't reply as she braked heavily into turn one, using the gears to slow the car progressively as she swung back into the Esses. Naoto had often said that driving these cars, while exhausting, was addicting. The feel of the track, the ripples and imperfections of the tarmac under the wheel, transmitted itself through the wheel to her hands in a fashion that felt telepathic. The tugging away, the slight resistance to turn, crafted a texture that keyed Kallen into every inch of the road surface and allowed her to hug the proper line and zoom around the high speed bends as if she had spent months at it.

It was glorious.

* * *

 **I'm back, and much sooner than I expected. I had initially intended to write this all in advance, as I have done in the past, to ensure a regular schedule for uploads, however it was Titanfire999 who actually convinced me to publish as I write. The reason is as follows; During my last story, there were several interesting ideas that were suggested to me that I was never able to act on, including the return of different characters that I had neglected. As a result of this, your suggestions have a much higher chance of making the final draft, however this also means that my thrice a week upload schedule will not even be approached, let alone met. I will be uploading as I write, and so you may want to Follow to make sure you don't miss updates. If you're feeling really kind, it would be lovely if you could leave a review on this new direction. Thank you, and stay safe!**

 **~Eth0**


	2. OK2 - Guile

**OK Number Two: Guile**

* * *

Kallen Kōzuki wrinkled her nose, tugging at the neck of her purple Rebellion overalls as she craned her head upwards, peering out into the Japanese afternoon quizzically as the engineers attended to her car. She seemed to stare at the sky for some time, to the point where Ohgi made his way across the garage to see what the fuss was about. An answer was long in coming, as Kallen seemed transfixed with the act of staring at the sky. Eventually, not taking her eyes off the sky, she spoke.

"Does it look at all to you like it might rain?"

Ohgi joined her in staring at the sky, frowning somewhat as he examined the horizon. After a moment, he eventually, though with some uncertainty, replied.

"I don't think it'll come by the start, but we'll factor it into our strategy."

Kallen didn't respond initially, however she dropped her head and sighed. It was definitely ambiguous, which was somewhat frustrating. While Kallen had thrived in wet weather racing during her time in GP2, she would have preferred if her first experience of it was in a more controlled environment. Still, based on Saturday qualifying, it seemed she was a fast learner.

While she had gone through two sets of Prime tyres in Q1 rather than the usual single run, which compromised her available tyres for later in the weekend, she had been able to clear the session after ten flying laps of building up pace, and she eventually qualified in eighth of twenty, which was definitely below the cars potential, but admirable for a first time out.

Cornelia McGlynn had claimed Pole Position with the fastest time in all three sessions, with Kallen's teammate Kyoshiro Tohdoh qualified on the second row, in third place, which, while good, seemed frustrate the double world champion.

Indeed, frustration seemed to be the word that defined the mans season. While he had enjoyed a competitive car for three years, this year's Rebellion car had proven unreliable and troublesome in comparison to the Camelot-Yggdrasil, driven by the pair on the front row. While a series of superb drives had kept him within six points of Cornelia, and a point ahead of Gino, at two races completed in the season, luck only lasted so long.

Kallen looked up again. The clouds were foreboding, though indecisive.

Having had Ohgi's input though, there wasn't a great deal she could do beyond trust the telemetry, and so she stepped out into the pitlane to head towards the front straight where everyone had gathered. Tohdoh had not proven to be any more forthcoming than he had during qualifying, and with Naoto in hospital, there weren't that many people she knew that well. In truth, she was just eager to get underway before the weather began to shift.

"Miss Kōzuki?"

Not recognising the voice, Kallen had to turn and look around to find its source, buried in the densely packed throngs, however a waving arm above the crowd helped her sight the person seeking her attention, who proved to be Suzaku Kururugi, the driver of car number 7 for the Rosenberg Team. He was hotly tipped to be a future champion, however held none of the demeanour that came around such hype. His body language was completely relaxed, with little visible strength in his face or lean, yet muscular torso. He did not appear to have any desire to manage his significant mass of brown hair, which contrasted his surprisingly neat overalls, which could well have been ironed if Kallen didn't know from experience that attempting to manage that fireproof fabric was all but redundant. As a whole, he combined approachability with an air of control and presentability. Surprised to be approached by him, Kallen stepped back for a moment, before asking "What is it?"

He seemed to stop briefly, before explaining "I was sorry to hear about your brother. When I first got into Grand Prix last year, he was always eager to help out when I needed it. He was always polite, and always left room to avoid collisions. I hope he's doing alright."

Kallen was quite surprised by this turn in things, however she thanked him for his concern, and responded "He's doing alright. Could be much worse. He was joking around after surgery."

Suzaku breathed a sigh of relief, smiling "Oh thank goodness, that's a relief. I was quite worried. I'll have to buy him something while he's in hospital."

Kallen nodded, rather pleased to realise that Naoto's pleasant recollections of Suzaku were mutual. Perhaps it was because they were both Japanese in a grid largely dominated by Britons, where their only other countrymen were Kyoshiro Tohdoh and Shinichiro Tamaki, who reportedly did not get along with Kururugi in the least. Nevertheless, it was at the very least comforting that her brothers connections were willing to mitigate some of her isolation.

"Tell you what though, you did really well for it being your first time out. I crashed on my first qualifying in Australia, embarrassing though it is to admit."

Kallen had been there to see it, with Suzaku messing up his exit out of the final right hander and spinning his rear end into the wall, only meters from completing the lap. It was a shame, as it was shaping up, based on his sector times, to be one of the fastest laps of the session before he bottled it. She chuckled, and replied "Well, I've got a bit of a cushier ride than you did."

"Eh, I don't know how cushy. I wouldn't be too eager to have Rebellion as my first drive."

Kallen frowned, wondering what he meant. There was certainly a lot of expectations that came with having such a good team, even if it wasn't having a fantastic year, but it was certainly better than nothing. However, Suzaku seemed to catch her scant disagreement, and he seemed to shift uncomfortably. She planned to inquire further, however Suzaku suddenly was distracted, as he called across the track.

"Hey Rivalz, get over here!"

Kallen turned about to see Rivalz Cardemonde, the blue haired driver of the number 19 Ashford-RT car, spot Suzaku and rush over, enthusiastic to meet summons. Suzaku nodded as he joined their little circle, and asked "Have you met the newest driver, Kallen Kōzuki?"

"No I have not, nice to meet you Kallen!" replied Rivalz, in an excited, but genuine voice, as he extended an arm with great vigor for her to shake. Somewhat put off by his enthusiasm, she nonetheless met his request as he continued "Man, I've heard a whole bunch about you! It's a shame what happened to your brother, but I know you're gonna do him proud!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Suzaku adopt a small smirk. Perhaps this was his intention, his way of paying Naoto back for his kindness, to introduce her to some of the drivers and prevent her from growing even more isolated, just as Naoto had done for him. Even in hospital her brother was looking after her.

She chuckled, and shook her head. He'd have a right laugh at this. In any case, Rivalz continued to speak all manner of drivel for some time, before the chatter died down. Kallen, who by now was feeling more confident, took some initiative.

"So what do you reckon will happen in terms of weather?"

Suzaku and Rivalz both looked up, and took a moment to think. Suzaku spoke first, commenting "It may rain during the race, but I don't think it'll rain before it starts."

Rivalz nodded in agreement, seemingly convinced by Suzaku's expertise. Kallen was still uncertain, however she didn't offer an alternative view.

"Well now, isn't this a pretty picture."

The triumvirate turned towards a new voice, which had a more relaxed, cynical edge to its soft, smooth tones. Its owner, with a sharklike smirk and one eyebrow held far above the other, stepped forwards, hands in pockets and chin pointed smugly upwards, as the mood seemed to darken with his arrival. He exuded confidence as if he was trying to aggressively shed it, and his dark, violet eyes pierced through the three, examining them with shifting, fiercely intrigued pupils.

Rivalz, who knew his teammate well, smiled and called over "Hey there Lelouch!"

Lelouch Lamperouge, the other driver from Ashford-RT, cocked his head to one side and replied "Good afternoon Rivalz. It seems you've found a few friends."

"Yeah! This here's Kallen Kōzuki, Naoto's younger sister. She's got his seat until he's recovered."

Lelouch turned his head towards Kallen, staring straight into her without the slightest trace of a blink. His gaze was at once seemingly innocent and terrifying, like a slightly wonky imitation of a greeting rather than the genuine article, the uncanny valley in a human. He seemed too self-assured, too aloof.

This fit perfectly with Naoto's anecdotes. Naoto had many stories about all the drivers, most positive and complementary but not Lelouch. Her brother somehow even managed to dredge up positive memories of Cornelia or Luciano, and yet he maintained stoically that Lelouch Lamperouge was nothing more than an anthropomorphised snake. It was supposedly impossible to tell what he was thinking at any given moment, other than that he always was thinking in some tactical, scheming capacity. He was like a dark, unknowable cloud that was best avoided if at all possible.

However, there wasn't really a polite way to leave as Lelouch extended his hand and softly smiled "Good afternoon.", with all the grace of a wolf looking over a sheep. Moreover, at the very least she could have the opportunity to suss out the competition, and so she shook his hand. While he was reluctant to reveal them, Lelouch was known for having interesting strategies and a light foot that propelled his results far above that which his notoriously mediocre racecraft would seem to deserve.

"So…" he began, drawing out the vowel sound "What were we all discussing, mm?"

"Weather conditions. It looks like you're out of luck if you wanted to leapfrog us by doing one less pit stop, I don't think it'll rain until after the race starts."

Lelouch looked up, seeming somewhat mischievous, and shrugged "That may be."

Suzaku, seeming somewhat frustrated by Lelouch's ambiguity, ran out of patience, and asked "Well, what of it?"

Lelouch turned back towards Suzaku, and flashed an innocent grin, commenting "I don't know what you mean dear Suzaku, I'm merely commenting that there's a chance of rain a little earlier."

"Don't try to mess with me Lelouch, I've known you for a decade now and I know that face. What are you up to?"

Kallen blinked in surprise. These two seemed to be polar opposites, and she was amazed that they had spent that much time together without stabbing one another, particularly given Naoto's harsh words and Lelouch. Curious, she interrupted and asked "Have you really known each other that long?"

Lelouch turned towards her and explained "Had a falling out with the family back when I was in Formula Renault, and I had to stay with Suzaku for a few years before I got my own flat."

Suzaku nodded to confirm this, as Kallen stood pleasantly bemused, before the Rosenberg driver added "Indeed, and in that time I've learned to tell when this man is up to something. What's going on?"

Lelouch chuckled, squirming slightly, as he explained "Well… I'm feeling the alternate strategy today."

"Lelouch, you're not actually starting on Wet Weather Tyres?" Suzaku asked exasperatedly, seeming crestfallen at his friends decision. "Mate, it's not going to work for you. Please, you're only making yourself look silly."

"I'll only look silly if I'm wrong." shrugged the black haired Frenchman, as Kallen thought it over. If Lelouch guessed right, and it began to rain on the start line, he would not have to change tyres during the race to adapt to the wet conditions as he started on the right tyres and could gain up to twenty seconds on the entire rest of the field. However, if he was wrong, and it didn't rain for some time, he would be on a much slower tyre until it eventually began to rain, assuming it ever did. In that case, he could end up over twenty seconds behind the entire rest of the field. It was high risk, high reward, and entirely typical of Lelouch by all accounts.

"You will be wrong." Suzaku insisted, though in a jovial fashion, as if he was warning a close friend to avoid a terrible haircut rather than a race strategy.

"Care to place a bet on that?" Lelouch smiled, not seeming willing to back down. Kallen wondered if he knew something they didn't. However Suzaku, now that his pride was at stake, was in no mood to back down either, answering "A thousand Yen it won't rain for at least two laps into the race."

Lelouch shook his friends hand, before Suzaku departed, presumably to sort out his tyre strategy in light of his bet, leaving Kallen alone with Lelouch and Rivalz. Hoping to make some conversation, she noted "You're certainly confident."

The Ashford driver shrugged, and cheekily replied "Eh, it helps when you've got the right info."

"Such as?" Kallen asked, incredulously.

"I am told, by my sources, that it is raining in Tokyo."

Kallen blinked, and, uncertain of whether he was joking, laughed "What sources? Have you got someone out there watching the sky, or?"

Lelouch laughed as well, answering "Heh… I have men standing on roofs with buckets all over the Prefectures of Kanagawa and Saitama, and those buckets are filling up rapidly."

Kallen, genuinely unsure of whether Lelouch was having a laugh or genuinely employed a group of poor sods to stand on rooftops in the middle of Tokyo for hours at a time, decided to drop this line of inquiry, and ask "So where did you qualify?"

"Eleventh." Lelouch explained. "Not what I'd hoped for, but the car isn't that great this season."

Kallen nodded in understanding. While Reuben Ashford, the team principal and chief engineer, had built incredible cars in the past, practically inventing many features that were seen as standard in a modern car, the team had run into financial trouble, and had been unable to procure the new Yggdrasil engines coming out of Britain, handicapping their pace considerably. This was, in all likelihood, why Lelouch was so willing to go for risky strategies; it was his only way of getting points, if unreliably.

"So…" he continued. "...what are you going to do?"

Kallen wasn't entirely certain. Lelouch could well be partaking in an elaborate bluff, trying to convince other drivers to switch onto wet tyres when in fact he himself planned no such thing, or he could be wrong, as Suzaku assumed. That said, she had her own suspicions as to the weather.

"I guess I'll ask Tohdoh what he's doing, he'll help."

Lelouch paused, frowning slightly for the first time, however he shrugged and said "You make your decision, the team will make theirs."

Nonplussed, Kallen watched the now seemingly bored Lelouch turn and walk off without another word, one hand scratching the back of his head in disinterest. It even caught Rivalz by surprise, as he flicked his head between Kallen and his departing teammate in confusion, before he eventually mustered up the decisiveness to wish her a good race, and chase after Lelouch.

Somewhat bemused, Kallen was left standing alone with her hands in her pockets, feeling somewhat as if a hurricane had just passed her by like a tourist in a rush, shaking her but ultimately leaving her for bigger and better things. It was strange, but left her plenty to consider.

She looked up again. Particularly given that her first race, she wasn't inclined to take the risk of going onto the wet tyre before the conditions were optimal, however there was so much to be gained. There was also the question of whether Lelouch was lying. It could be a bluff to compromise her strategy and gain him an advantage. The truth was, she was shooting into the dark.

Uncertain, she returned to her pit box, as ready as she would ever be for the off. She saw various cars leaving their garages and realized it was close to crunch time, before hurrying over to her car to fit her balaclava and helmet to get going. However, before she could hop into the car, she felt a hand on her shoulder, Ohgi trying to get her attention.

"What types d'you want to go out on? We can't change on the grid, so you have to decide now."

Kallen paused, and asked "Who's on wets?"

"Only Lamperouge."

It went against all common sense, certainly in light of what many more experienced drivers were doing, but there was a certainty in the way he had spoken that encouraged Kallen to decide to take the risk.

After all, if she messed it up, it was just her first race.

"I'm going out on wets, I want an undercut."

Not awaiting reply, she sat into the car and placed her feet at the carbon pedals, revving up the engine in a satisfying fashion, soaking in the scream of the six cylinders, eager to greet the cold, damp air. It was a risk, but every sign pointed to assured success.

"Kallen?"

The radio burst into life, however the voice was fuzzy, and far lighter than Ohgi's. Over the noise of the squealing engine, she asked "What's going on?"

The voice chuckled, and responded "I'm hurt, you don't recognise your brother, even with a tube up his nose? I'm watching from the hospital. Bold choice of tyres, but you'll do fantastic. I believe in you."

Kallen smiled from behind the helmet as she released the clutch and pulled out of the garage. She was nervous, under-practiced, and on a risky strategy, but Naoto was as always there to make sure it was going to be okay. She felt a welling in her chest.

"Thank you. Let's go kick some ass."

* * *

"We are just moments away now from the start of the Japanese Grand Prix, with all the cars now lined up on the grid ready for the off, and according to our colleagues in pit lane it has begun to trickle with rain. With the cars no longer able to swap tires before the race starts, this means Kallen Kōzuki and Lelouch Lamperouge will be the only drivers on the competitive wet tyre. Talking you through the race will be myself, Diethard Reid, and my colleague, Jeremiah Gottwald. Good to see you again!"

"And you as well. Let's review the grid order before the off."

"Indeed. Cornelia McGlynn takes her third pole position in a row, with her teammate Gino Weinberg lining up alongside. Heading up the second row of the grid is Kyoshiro Tohdoh, who in six years of Grand Prix racing has never won his home event, and will be eager to accomplish that, as well as get his title challenge underway. Luciano Bradley pipped Villetta Nu to fourth, with only two hundredths of a second separating the two Lancer drivers on their best laps. Sixth in the grid is Suzaku Kururugi, who'll hope to improve that qualifying position over the course of a race. Seventh is Li Xingke in the lead Geely, eighth is Kallen Kōzuki, ninth is Zhou Xianglin in the other Geely, and tenth is the Densō-Sakura of Shinichiro Tamaki."

"And that sound, that sound you hear ladies and gentlemen, is the engines all revving up, ready to get underway. We can see the red lights go on, and once they go out, we can get underway."

"Indeed, all the start lights are on for the Japanese Grand Prix. Who will come out ahead? In two hours, we'll know. Five red lights are… out, and away we go!"

* * *

 **Who's Brundle and who's Crofty? Be sure to let me know. This offseason is too long, I can't wait for the new season to start, but for now, this is placating me. Again, please be sure to let me know who you'd like to see, and any ideas you may have.**

 **~Eth0**


	3. OK3 - The Setting Sun

**OK Number Three: The Setting Sun**

* * *

It was a sluggish start as far as Kallen was concerned, the wheels struggling to find patches of traction as they squirmed off the line. While it was damp, and getting damper by the minute, the conditions still lay in that amorphous region between wet and dry. As the engine revolutions soared, torque only creating wheelspin, Kallen pulled back on her paddle by the wheel to change up to second gear to settle the wild rear tyres, hoping that the increased legs would compensate for the higher gears lowered acceleration.

It did, as the engine briefly bogged down before it returned to its ideal operating window, allowing the wheels to smoothly find traction and increase their rotation speed without slips or sudden jerks. Pull back on the paddle for third gear, and she was underway.

Forty two laps to go.

Having found the grip to get her car up to speed, Kallen finally found the time to look ahead and see how the people ahead of her had gotten on. It appeared practice and experience had enabled them to get much better starts, even on the inferior tyre. The pack ahead had pulled a gap ahead of her, the spray patterns obscuring exactly who had the advantage of the lead group. Cautious of the four-or-five car wide scrum ahead, Kallen was cautious as the grid raced towards turn one, trying to spot her braking point in the wet.

The car on the inside line, which proved to be Luciano Bradley with an even worse start with Kallen, braked first, not eager to get tangled with other drivers. Seeing an opportunity, Kallen pulled her car towards the outside line to perhaps attempt an overtake, however she suddenly saw a yellow flag being waved by the marshals, barely visible in the drizzly mist, indicating that the cars ought to slow down to avoid a hazard on track.

Immediately, the car ahead aggressively braked, forcing Kallen to go off track to avoid hitting them in the rear. However, as she mounted the kerb and hopped onto the patch of green on the outer edge of the first corner, she finally saw why the car ahead had braked so harshly; there had been a crash.

Peering through the mess, she got a clear idea of who was affected; both Camelots were out, as well as Kallens teammate Tohdoh. The three race leaders had taken one another out at turn one, and that completely shook up the race, potentially putting a podium on the cards if the strategy of doing one less pit stop paid off.

Which it seemed, on the flowing sections of turns three and four, it was doing. The car that had brake checked her, which turned out to be Li Xingke, was still ahead of her, however was carrying almost no speed through the apex of the esses. As the yellow flags withdrew, Kallen accelerated around the outside of Xingke, an unorthodox move that in the dry would never work, however Xingke's deficit in grip levels allowed her to keep a much higher speed around the corner, and overtake him on the approach to the first Degner. Undoubtedly, most everyone was going to pit for the wet tyre at the end of the lap, taking around twenty seconds to go through pit lane relative to Kallen and Lelouch.

She had to hand it to him, his gamble appeared to have paid off, which became even more clear as she braked heavily into the hairpin after the second Degner and felt the confidence the tyres inspired in light of the conditions. It felt as if the limits of lateral grip were a ways away, and that she could push more and more. Even at 130R, which she had yet to take flat in the dry, she only took a slightly earlier braking point than she had in the dry, and she was able to brake later than the Lancer of Villetta Nu into the final chicane. She took a cheeky pleasure in watching the off-white car peel off into the pitlane for new tyres, as well as the radio message from Ohgi which simply chuckled "That's P1, you're in P1, Lamperouge two seconds behind."

Leading her first Grand Prix, at her home event. Given bizarre nature of the last 48 hours of her life, the surreal absurdity of this situation washed over her with a degree of uncaringness. She was not going to be distracted by the increasing unlikeliness of her situation.

What she was going to be distracted by was the scene at the first corner, which she was returning to rapidly. After having a proper look at the run of area, she saw Cornelia standing next to her car, which was being lifted away as she looked on. The Camelot of Gino and the Rebellion of Tohdoh had gone, probably having driven away. They would likely have to return to the pits to repair, which would put them at the very back of the grid and out of contention for a podium finish, if the damage was repairable in the first place. Curious, she asked for an update over the radio as she swept through the Esses for the second time.

"It appears Cornelia was squeezed between Gino and Tohdoh, and all three drivers came together. Cornelia is out of the race, and Gino was given a penalty, as well as having to replace his front wing. Tohdoh received damage to the sidepod, and had to retire in the pits. You are increasing the gap to Lamperouge, though Kururugi is closing on both of you. Keep it up. You'll be doing more one stop today, around the same time as everyone else, so we need to hold this gap as best we can."

Kallen confirmed this, as she saw Lelouch come into view in her rear view mirror, suspiciously small for being two seconds behind. Not putting much thought into that issue, Kallen pressed on, leaning heavily on her tyres to increase the gap to Lelouch. Over the next ten laps, the gap increased to almost twelve seconds, by which time her radio had returned to life.

"Kururugi has overtaken Lamperouge, and is catching you by around a second per lap."

Doing the maths in her head, Kallen reckoned that would be around the ideal pit stop window halfway through the race. If she could stay ahead until then, and get an undercut by pitting early, she could just about retain the position going into the latter stages of the race. For now, she just had to minimise Suzaku's gains relative to her.

However, that was becoming increasingly difficult as her tyres wore down, with increased graining and wear lowering her ceiling of grip, with the difficulties exponentially increasing. Here, her lack of experience was showing, as Suzaku, seemingly unperturbed, loomed large in the background of her mind as the sector times ticked away.

Suzaku made his move on lap twenty two of forty six, with an attempt to dive bomb Kallen on entry to the hairpin, braking much later than Kallen to leap forward and slip by as they decelerated into the slow corner, blocking the apex with his car and barging his way through.

However, the move was too ambitious, and he had not managed to slow himself fast enough to turn into the corner properly, spearing out wide on the exit of the corner. While Kallen was now behind, she was able to take a smoother, shorter line around the corner, and pull more momentum through it, allowing her to accelerate ahead on the way up to the Spoon Curve.

The moves ambitious yet improbable mature caught Kallen by surprise. In spite of his friendly demeanor, Suzaku clearly had immense confidence in his car and was willing to make incredibly aggressive maneuvers. She would have her hands full defending from him, even if running wide set him back some.

Suzaku eventually recovered, and was soon chasing after her, braking much later on the entry to Spoon, forcing her to take a defensive tack towards the inside of the corner on exit, preventing him from lunging down towards the apex to gain position, however also compromising her run onto the back straight. She could only watch Suzaku tuck in behind her, soaking in her wake and yet being pulled along by the vacuum of air Kallen was carving as she punched along the track. This slipstream greatly reduced the drag of Suzaku's car, as the air Kallen was forced to cleave her way through was dispersed away by the aerodynamics of her car, allowing the car following her to gain a substantial tow.

As Suzaku gained yet more momentum, he eventually pulled to the outside and used his momentum to swing himself alongside as they approached 130R, and as they rushed to the high speed corner in tandem, Kallen's heart sank. This was emphatically not a two-wide corner, even in the dry, and Suzaku did not appear to have any intention of lifting off on her outside.

Kallen became increasingly nervous as the corner approached. While Naoto's failure had been mechanical, it was in uncannily similar weather, and was ever-present as they approached the bend.

But then a curious thing happened. Suzaku lifted off, and as Kallen braked into the high-speed corner, he filed in behind her and continued to follow in her slipstream on the way up to the chicane at the Casio triangle. Surprised, she held the line rather tight, and allowed the aero to drag her into line around the three hundred kilometer per hour bend, ever aware of the proximity of another car. It was intensely interesting that he had not forced the move at that point, which was well within his capabilities.

Instead, he tucked in behind her out of 130R, and instead braked later than her into the Casio chicane on the inside, placing his car on the apex and hogging the track. It was a far safer and more conventional move, and secured him nominal first place. Of course, Xingke or the Lancers could challenge him later into the race, but for now, he had track position and had done one less lap on his current set of tyres.

"Box now, box now, we're still in this. Box immediately."

As soon as Suzaku had made his way past, Kallens radio burst into life, with Ohgi urging her to make a stop in her pit box, presumably for new tyres. Pulling aside on the exit of the last corner, Kallen peeled off on pit lane entry and slowly proceeded to her box, as per regulations. The moment she came to a stop, her car was swarmed by engineers. They ripped off her old wheels, rims and all. They were immediately replaced by a virgin set. The light on her steering wheel went green. She accelerated out of the box.

All done in under two seconds. The pit crew were a well practiced machine, replacing her worn wet tyres with a fresh set and ushering her away faster than Kallen could tie her shoelaces. If they didn't pull it off every other weekend without issue, it could well be classed as a wonder of the modern world. There was never a miscommunication or error, and it continued to amaze Kallen even as she sat in the car it was happening to. And now, she had fresh rubber.

As she exited back onto the track, having fallen behind Lelouch, Luciano and Villetta in the twenty seconds lost during the pit due to the speed limit for driving through pit lane, Kallen did the maths. Kallen was the first driver to go onto a new set of wet tyres, and while everyone else would need to make a stop onto a second set of wets as she had, she had done all her stops for the day. At present, her fresh tyres meant that she was as fast as she was ever going to be during this race. When other drivers pitted, they would also lose around twenty seconds. In the time between now and their pit stops, Kallen would have more pace compared to their old tyres, and so she could gain a second or two relative to them. Therefore, at the end of the pit stop phases, Kallen could be a second or two ahead of the other drivers relative to her initial pace.

For example, Suzaku was inches ahead of Kallen when she pitted, and gaining one or two seconds on an undercut could put her ahead of him on track after the pit stops finished. To do this, of course, Kallen would have to be faster than anyone else on track due to these new tyres.

One hundred and twenty kilometers per hour, clip the apex late. Suck in breath. Hold as much speed as possible into the flowing Esses. Left apex, right apex, left apex, dab of brakes, and hold the car in tight around Dunlop. Breath out. Mash the throttle towards the first Degner, light braking on entry, allow the car to wash towards the outer limits of the track. Heavy braking into the second Degner, one hundred and thirty kilometers per hour. Focus, fight the rear of the car on the exit. Switch lines into the hairpin, move to the outer edge. Make the hundred-and-eighty degree corner as wide as possible, outer edge, late apex, outer edge, and accelerate. Breathe again. Sacrifice the line on entry to Spoon, swing around tight to preserve speed, and fly.

With hitherto impossible grip, the car rocketed forwards with little wheelspin. Kallen flicked a switch on the wheel to give her the rich fuel flow she needed to get this lap as fast as she could, as 130R approached again. She had new tyres with which to grip, and so while she didn't take it flat out, she only lifted off the throttle at the last moment, and even then she had to fight the natural tendency of the car to spear off to the right.

Heavy braking into Casio, swing right, place both wheels over the kerb on the exit of the Chicane, and engage warp drive down the pit straight. Suzaku, who had pitted on Lap 1, should have pitted a lap after her, or thereabouts. Would he be ahead, or had that lap been enough?

Watching the pit exit, she saw the bold white sheen of the Rosenberg Car streak out, rapidly accelerating towards the first corner. Eager to gain back the position, Kallen pulled alongside, having had the entire straight to build up speed, and tried to outbrake Suzaku on entry to turn one from a long ways back, however in her aggressive application of the brakes she locked up the rear wheels and plough on off the track, losing about three seconds and all hope of stealing back the lead through strategy.

And now she was on older tyres. It was all downhill from here.

Over the next few laps, cars that had extended their first stint on wet tyres and had pitted later now began to reel Kallen in. Five laps after Suzaku had avoided her undercut, Villetta Nu, who had managed to get ahead of her teammate, held the outside of the hairpin and was able to maintain superior traction up towards Spoon Curve in spite of the nominally inferior line. The move was quick, efficient, and not really combatable. Luciano Bradley was next two laps later, with a better exit off the final chicane allowing him to pass her on the straight.

It was certainly dispiriting, however she did her best to not think about it and simply be as fast as she could be and run her own race. Races were about who finished ahead, not who did the most overtakes, and so Kallen focused on setting the best times she could manage over time as the laps ticked away. Around lap 31, she asked for a radio update, hoping for some way to jump the field and perhaps get a podium at her first race.

"Okay, pace is secure to Xingke, he will not catch you before the end if you maintain lap times. Ahead are Kururugi, Nu, Bradley and Lamperouge."

Kallen paused for a moment, realizing that Ohgi had listed four names rather than three, before copping on.

"How in bloody hell has Lelouch gotten ahead of us?"

"It appears he is going to the end on the tyre he started the race with, and was able to maintain position in not losing the time pitting. He has been preserving his types all race long, they will be worn. We can catch him, we seem to be gaining half a second per lap, with a gap of four seconds at this time."

Eight laps to catch, two to overtake.

With a clear target, Kallen was able to put the hammer down and chase down the French driver, whose tyres were worn down to the canvases. Banging out a series of personal best lap times, she found a rhythm in her movements, with delicate throttle applications and slight movements of wrist. It was all about efficiency at this point, as the best way to go quickly was to be as smooth as possible. Time was lost when you slipped up, spun the wheels, and got bad exits, and over the next ten laps, Kallen ensured mistakes were kept to a minimum. Even more than that, it felt effortless, as she was completely dialled into the car and its mannerisms. You waited for the car to straighten up on exit of the hairpin. ERS meant you could change up early out of Spoon. It was better to be in a lower gear through the Esses even though you carried less speed, as the car would have more aggressive handling patterns.

As she approached the diffuser of Lamperouge, on the approach to the Casio triangle, she could only wonder what she could have pulled off with more practise. She ventured around his outside, however Lelouch planted his car on the apex of the corner and hogged the racing line, as he was entitled to. He hopped across to the other side, aggressively defending the racing line with the two inside wheels almost onto the grass on the inside and forcing Kallen to take the outside line. Lelouch then cut across her and pulled to the outside off the front straight, nearly pulling into the pit lane.

She was forced to brake to avoid hitting his sidepod, which killed her momentum onto the main straight. This allowed Lelouch's lackluster engine to hide behind its superior track position and allow him to stay ahead on the way into the first corner. A heavy, visible lock up from Lelouch showed how much he was struggling with tyre wear at this point. She took it easy under braking in the knowledge that Lelouch would not hold for long.

The Esses that followed were immensely frustrating, as while they were an engaging set of corners, they were incredibly difficult to overtake on, even with a large difference in speed. She was stuck behind him, throttle barely applied as the procession approached the first Degner. Taking a late apex, she was able to pull the car in tight on the exit while Lelouch, who lacked grip, ran wide. With a superior traction, Kallen was able to accelerate up towards Lelouch, pulling alongside into the braking zone at the Second Degner, with Lelouch being forced into a shallow inside line that was indescribably compromised.

However, Lelouch was playing to win, and braked late, placing the length of his car across the apex and only turning into the actual corner at the last moment, effectively blocking off the corner for Kallen. However, this killed all his speed through the corner, and so while kept his fourth position, his ability to keep it for much longer was now diminished. His acceleration towards the hairpin was abysmal, and Kallen, with a much less aggressive turn in, was able to slingshot through the corner and, for the first time, pull ahead of Lelouch, holding the racing line in towards the hairpin. She had half a cars lead as they turned in, which was the regulated distance where Lelouch had to yield the corner.

However, as Kallen raised her right hand to fully lock her steering wheel into the left hand corner, she saw Lelouch continue on, performing his normal blocking trick, even though he was too far back. As she turned into the corner, he continued into the side of her, making impact at the slowest part of the corner.

Even though the corner was slow, Kallen still felt the hefty shunt rock the car and rip through the barge board. She took a hand off the wheel to give Lelouch the finger as he pulled away from her, notably with only half of his front wing.

"Unbelievable…" Kallen murmured as she pulled the car around and began to drive back towards Spoon, before speaking to Ohgi over the radio.

"Lelouch hit me, at the hairpin. I'm coming back around, I think I have damage to the car."

"Confirmed, we'll have a look."

Not knowing how compromised the car was, Kallen did not pit immediately, instead completing the lap and driving as close to the pit wall as possible to allow Ohgi and the mechanics to have a look.

"Okay Kallen, visible damage to the side of the car, but we cannot fix it, it's not front wing. Only a lap left, stay out, and hold position."

The downforce and air funnelling the wide floor provided was now undermined, which showed in the Esses, where Kallen found the car beginning to swash with understeer, running wide and requiring more turn in to hold the racing line and not run off wide. However, the next car back, Li Xingke's Geely, was a ways off due to fights with his team mate, and so she was able to nurse the car home to fifth place, thoroughly wet and not the least bit amused.

"Not the ending we'd hoped for, but a good race, especially for the first time out. Pick up rubber and head onto Parc Ferme."

Over a race distance, a car lost weight to fuel and tyre degradation, and the marginal nature of GP racing meant there was always a slim chance that the car could be too light to be legal, and so when heading to Parc Ferme, where the cars were checked for rules violations, Kallen would drive off the line to pick up debris onto the tyres and increase the weight of the car. It took awhile for her to do another, slowed lap of the track to cool the car and preserve fuel, however she eventually returned to the paddock just as the podium celebrations were getting underway.

Suzaku had won the race, the second win of his career, and looked immensely pleased about it, particularly in light of his team mates seventh place. Bradley had found his way back past Nu in the dying phases of the race to get a commendable second, with the Lancer team chairman pleased with a double podium. Fourth placed Lelouch had skulked off someplace. The other major story of the day was Gino, who managed to come back from last to finish eighth. The two points that earned him in the Championship boosted him to second place overall, now ahead of Tohdoh, who did not complete the race.

Taking off her helmet, she looked around for the French driver, spotting his car parked in front of hers but not being able to spot its owner. Her quest was interrupted by the arrival of Taizo Kirihara, who in contrast to Ohgi's rather dour comments, looked immensely pleased.

"Well done out there! Nevermind that Lelouch, you moved beyond your qualifying position and that's all that matters. Don't worry, I've had a word with Tohdoh, he's-"

He looked willing to go on, however just as he had interrupted Kallen's angry search for Lelouch, he was interrupted by the crowd in the grandstand, who had begun to shout and chant. Smirking, Taizo pointed a finger up and said "Listen!"

"Oshiyoseru Kozūki! Oshiyoseru Kozūki!"

It was a chant that started up sometime around last year, during her brother Naoto's incredible last-to-third drive at the then Japanese Grand Prix. It was translated into "Advance", or "Forth", and quickly became one of the most prominent chants at subsequent Grand Prix. While Suzaku was viewed in the eyes of the Japanese fans as being a sellout for joining a British team, and Tohdoh was every bit as uneventful as he was fast, but Naoto had garnered through his ballsy, dramatic style a genuine following, even if he wasn't necessarily the fastest man on track.

Whether the chanting was a show of enthusiasm for the new driver, highlighting her connection to their former darling, or a show of support to wish the injured driver well, it didn't matter a great deal. With the massive, organic enthusiasm that surrounded her, she suddenly found it incredibly difficult to be pissed off at anyone, even the French.

* * *

 _ **OSHIYOSERU KOZUKI!**_

 **Much of this fic owes itself to the wells of support offered to Japanese driver Kamui Kobayashi at the 2012 Grand Prix at Suzuka, where he scored a podium with the Sauber team and received cheers that boggled the eardrums from the local crowd. The vociferous, powerful support he experienced really made me think, and I gradually connected the two ideas and thus, this fic was born.**

 **Also, if I had a drink every time I mixed up Suzaku and Suzuka, I would be down several livers.**

 **~Eth0**


	4. OK4 - Sincerity

**OK Number 4! - Sincerity**

* * *

"Of course. It'll be okay, I can get them what they need. I finished fourth, so I get a bonus payment from the team. I'll make sure you're okay."

"Thank you brother, I never doubted you. I'm so proud of you."

Lelouch nodded to his younger sister, who smiled up towards him from her hospital bed, mangled legs hidden beneath layers blankets. His grip on the bouquet of flowers, held between his two fists, seemed to shake slightly. This always happened when he met with his crippled sister, a task he traditionally delegated to Rolo, the third member of their estranged troika, all of whom had separated from the Lamperouge family proper. However, Rolo was in Nagasaki for a GP3 event, leaving Lelouch with the proverbial hot potato of handling the hospital staff, who were increasingly eager to vertically lever Nunnally's healthcare fees.

Of course, Nunnally would never know of this, at least if Lelouch had anything to say about it. Her recovery was to be as comfortable and swift as possible. Leaving the flowers at her bedside, he gave a muted nod to the nurse attending to her sister, the eternally scrupulous Sayoko Shinozaki, employed on Reuben Ashfords coin to appease Lelouch, their best driver in some time, from moving elsewhere. Lelouch had no intention of doing so until his contract was concluded in ten months, as he needed the money, however he was more than happy to deceive his boss until the end of the season.

He quietly signed his thanks to her, before moving to leave. While he loved his time with his sister, their meetings, as well as inferring a fistfight with hospital staff, were marred by Lelouch's slight personal guilt as to his sisters condition, emphasised by his lack of bedside manner. He simply never knew what to say, other than make further promises that everything would work out in the end.

"Um, Lelouch?"

Fortunately, it seemed Nunnally had her own topic of conversation she wanted to pursue, and so he graciously asked "Yes? What is it?"

"I, um… I heard that you had a crash with the new driver, Miss Kōzuki." Nunnally explained, before asking "Was she alright? You really need to be more careful out there, it's quite dangerous."

Lelouch paused, scratching the back of his head awkwardly as he reached for an explanation. It was entirely typical of her to be worried about his health, particularly in light of the elder Kōzuki's recent injury, which had itself prompted a bout of texts and phone calls urging him to not race. Attempting to pacify her, he answered "It was a pretty slow impact at the slowest part of the track. I was defending my line, and she turned into me. It's unfortunate, but we were both okay, and I finished fourth. I promised you I'd keep safe, and I don't intend to break that promise."

Nunnally seemed somewhat assured by this, however she insisted in her maternal fashion "You really should apologise to her though. She's been through a lot, and I don't think it was very nice for her."

Lelouch frowned, before trying to parse together an answer. Eventually, he replied "Brushes and collisions are a part of all this. Everyone accepts that, or they wouldn't take part."

"Even so." Nunnally retorted. "Whether it's allowed, or expected, or not, it's still better to apologise anyway. She sounded like a lovely person on the radio, and I don't want to hear about you fighting with someone else."

Lelouch had what could be considered a rather strong will, and a knack for getting his way at the end of all things, however even he had a dubious track record of standing up to his sister. He huffed under his breath and shrugged "I suppose it couldn't hurt. But you better get some rest in the meanwhile if I'm doing this! I don't want to hear about you exerting yourself."

Nunnally chuckled, and responded "Alright, that sounds fair."

Patting this side of the bed frame to indicate a wave goodbye, he left the flowers and departed from the room, thinking over what he was to do. He knew where Kallen was, roughly; the race had only just ended, and so she was likely making her way to her own injured sibling in Mie University Hospital, a ten minute drive to the south of the private clinic Lelouch had negotiated his way into. Hopping into his coupe, he had driven out of the car park and pulled onto the main road as his phone began to ring, routing onto his Bluetooth audio.

"Lamperouge speaking. Who is it?" Lelouch spoke, too tired to inject much enthusiasm into his tone.

"Hey Lelouch, it's Suzaku." the voice replied.

Lelouch leaned back into his seat, and replied with more vigor "Hey Suzaku, congratulations on the win today. Conditions were treacherous, and you had some wicked pace. I'll get you next time."

"Yeah, sure." Suzaku laughed. "The no-stop was ambitious, but you overreached yourself. The one stop was probably better."

"I still beat Kozūki."

Suzaku hmmed in a questioning fashion before commenting "It's funny you mention that. I've heard you've been a naughty boy."

"I don't know what you could possibly mean." Lelouch joked, before explaining "I had the inside line. I was a little behind, but I was still entitled to space. Racing incident if you ask me."

Suzaku didn't reply initially, before adding "So where are you now? You weren't at the celebrations, I felt a little lonely."

Embracing Suzaku's tongue in cheek tone, Lelouch replied "You're the first Japanese driver to win this Grand Prix, I'm sure there was someone there at the party. For your information sir, I was visiting my sister Nunnally."

Suzaku laughed, and replied "True, but it wasn't the same without you."

"I'll see if I can make it up to your place tonight. You're still based up in the countryside, right?"

"Indeed. That's fantastic then. That said, I'll be back in the simulator tomorrow, so it'll be an early start. On the topic, I've heard you've been speaking with Cecile?"

Cecile Croomy was the Rosenberg team principal, who managed their strategy and driver lineup. Lelouch sighed, and responded "The thing is, Reuben, and Rivalz are great and all, but there's a ceiling. I'm having to pull off backwards strategies almost every race to get points. I've been with them my whole career, but ultimately I need to move on for Nunnally's sake."

Suzaku didn't say anything for awhile, before commenting "Well, Odysseus is retiring this year, so I'm sure you could get the seat if you actually put in effort."

"Ah crap, then I'm gazumped." Lelouch joked, before continuing "In all seriousness, Cecile seemed pretty onboard. Everyone's gunning for Kallens seat, so there won't be too much competition."

"Aye. If she doesn't perform, she'll have every driver up and down the grid breathing down her neck for a Rebellion seat." Suzaku affirmed. "So what are you up to now?"

Lelouch paused, trying to phrase his current endeavours in a slightly less embarrassing fashion than that he was apologising to Kallen for crashing into her because his sister had an entirely excessive influence in his decision making.

"Nunnally is making you apologise to Kozūki isn't she?"

Lelouch's immediate instinct was to swear violently, however a slow car in the middle lane instead forced him to swerve violently before he had the opportunity to complete the expletive. He couldn't believe Suzaku had managed to so immediately guess what he was up to, and so he sulked slightly before commenting "For the record, I put up a solid thirty seconds resistance."

Suzaku laughed out loud, before replying "Noted Lelouch, noted."

Lelouch shook his head jovially, as he indicated to turn right towards the University, before Suzaku continued "You know, I was wondering one thing."

Lelouch allowed Suzaku to continue after a moment's pause, who then asked "What was the deal before the race? You basically gave her the one stop strategy for free."

"I offered it to you as well, you just thought I was bluffing. On a related note, you owe me a thousand yen."

It was Suzaku's turn to swear, but he got beyond it, asking "Even so, why say anything? If you knew you were right, why not just keep it to yourself?"

"I thrive in uncertainty and instability. You know-"

Lelouch would have gone on to explain his reasoning, however he was quickly approaching a good parking spot, and decided to troll Suzaku and interrupt himself with "Actually, I've got to run. I'll explain another time. Au revoir Kururugi."

"Wait, hold on now, you haven't answered my-"

* * *

The Isetetsu rail line, constructed in 1973, only had two stops between Kawage and Tsu, allowing for swift transport across from the Suzuka facilities to the hospital. It was small, rapid, and robust, however it had the great disadvantage of being used by half the population of southeastern Japan at the same time on their way home from the race. There was less room than the cockpit of the Rebellion car. Rather fortunately, she didn't have far to travel, and departed the train within walking distance of Naoto's ward. The rain had mostly dispersed soon after the race had ended, and Kallen had had to attend a brief press conference prior to her departure. As a result, it was almost five in the evening by the time she arrived, and the October chill was settling over Kansai.

Kallen, with a five minute walk ahead, had plenty of time to mull over things. It was problematic that she was off the pace to such an extent that she wasn't able to pull off an undercut, however it was only upwards from here. While Tohdoh hadn't proven altogether too helpful, she supposed Naoto, with more time until the next race, would be able to talk her through the car and its behaviour. Even so, getting overtaken with an entire pit stops advantage was not brilliant for morale.

Kallen's mood was confused by the sight of a consternated Lelouch Lamperouge, gesticulating in a very French manner at a hapless receptionist, who seemed at once obstinate and extremely confused. While her initial instinct was to intervene, there was something intensely amusing in the interaction between the two that caused her to wait and watch, at least until a pair of security guards approached the pair, seemingly to remove the foreigner.

While she had serious reservations about Lelouch, many of which she hoped to air to him in the near future, she really didn't want to see him arrested, and so strode forward into the lobby to see what could be done. The receptionist, now somewhat free to address visitors now that Lelouch was trying not to be thrown out, turned to Kallen and sighed.

"I'm terribly sorry Miss Kōzuki, this man insisted on seeing your brother. Don't worry, he hasn't caused much trouble, just a lot of noise. Probably some obsessed fan."

Kallen smirked, shaking her head as Lelouch was being dragged away, before commenting "No, he actually isn't. He knows us both, you can let him past."

The receptionist was naturally surprised by this, however eventually signaled the guards to release the desperate man, who brushed himself off dramatically, and pridefully extended his chin at his former captors, who ignored the taunt. Kallen sighed, and approached him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a quiet hiss. Naoto and Lelouch never got along, and so his visit made no sense. He straightened at this question, seeming to gain some formality. After a moment, he eventually grumbled out "I apologize."

Kallen had to do a double take to ensure that the prideful Lelouch had in fact just apologised for something, which only served to disarm her previous anger at him.

"I um…" was all she could muster initially, before Lelouch elaborated "I'm sorry for making contact with you on the second to last lap."

Kallen blinked multiple times, before asking "Are… are you for real? Are you being made to say this against your will or something?"

"Yes." Lelouch answered, with no shame. Kallen chuckled, at once mollified and amused by his honesty. His shamelessness was obviously not good for any genuine apology, however it was so blunt that she couldn't help but chuckle, which caused Lelouch in turn to smirk, visibly holding in a chortle. There was something human in his candid approach that defused her initial anger.

"Unbelievable…" she sniggered, before Lelouch could elaborate "In spite of that, of course I would rather have not hit you. Ultimately, I'd rather forget the whole thing. After all, it's hardly ideal to be making enemies with someone so new."

This struck Kallen as a little self interested, however it was preferable to getting into a muddy fight, and so she decided to take a leaf out of his book and try to turn the situation to her benefit. Taking a moment to form the idea in her head, she replied "I'll let you off the hook, but you'll have to do something for me."

He gave a strange smirk, combining surprise with amusement, before answering "Whatever you request, ma'am."

Kallen smirked, and responded "I'll hold onto that one actually. I'll cash that in when I'm in a tight spot. In the meantime, check your mirrors going into corners."

It was Lelouch's turn to be surprised, as what had been a snicker contained to the edge of his lip grew to a healthy chortling chuckle, as he responded "Oh my… heh… I did not anticipate this. My my, I think you shall be most interesting driver in the future, if this is indicative. In that case, I owe you a debt."

Smiling for reasons known only to himself, and presuming the matter he came to address was solved purely by virtue of their transaction, moved to leave, heading towards the exit with no apparent remorse. To him, this contract absolved him, and so he moved as a free man. The dichotomy was something to behold, as he waved backwards and departed with a shout of "Oshiyoseru!"

After feeling somewhat like a hurricane had just blown past her, Kallen shook herself and decided to move on. Ultimately, while it was nice to have a favour in her back pocket, spending time attempting to decipher the actions of Lelouch was an exercise in wasting one's time. Once he had departed through the sliding doors, leaving behind aggrieved floor staff and not insignificant disruption, Kallen turned and moved along herself, heading towards Naoto's room.

He invited her in verbally as soon as she knocked, clearly eager for company. She stepped into the room with great enthusiasm, eager to see how her brother had felt about the race. He made his initial feelings very clear with a cheery squee from his bed, grinning from ear to ear, having few other features at his disposal with which to express his glee. He eventually decided to just announce his sentiment, with no lack of volume.

"WELL BLOODY DONE!"

Kallen winced out of a kindly fondness, very familiar with her brothers frequent fits of pride for his sisters accomplishments, finding a charm in its loudness and vigor. Like her, he was very open with his emotions, which was part of how they got on so well. He beckoned her over, before continuing.

"Man, you scared the daylights out of me, starting on wets. But hell, it worked out. Points on your debut race? That's madness."

Kallen blushed, before Naoto continued "Seriously though, I knew Lelouch would be a prick. You have to leave the space, absolutely unbelievable. Complete pay driver."

"In his defence, he recommended the one stop to me." Kallen defended, with a sudden desire to excuse the Frenchman in light of their conversation of the lobby, where he had proven altogether more personable than on the grid. "He's not a brilliant driver, but let's calm down."

Naoto huffed, but dropped the topic to return to his former happy sentiment, commenting that if Tohdoh had some bad luck later into the season and his title challenge crumbled, Kallen could even win a race in her maiden year. Kallen appreciated his enthusiasm, however she wasn't certain exactly what he meant with his comments regarding Tohdoh. Surely it would come down to their respective pace on the day?

Kallen voiced these confusions, which caused Naoto to pause, and attempt to backtrack his comment, however Kallen was having none of it.

"Naoto, this isn't funny. You were really resistant to me joining the team, and now you speak like this. What's the problem?"

Naoto was visibly distressed, clearly torn between not wanting to explain his thoughts to Kallen and his care for her. Pressed by Kallen's insistent stare, he eventually began to mumble parts of an answer.

"My reasoning… probably wrong, mind you… was that, at least when I was there, was there was some decision making that was rather old fashioned. They're a solid team that wants to win, and sometimes that isn't always fair to everyone."

Kallen frowned, trying to parse through Naoto's doublespeak, before he eventually continued, more decisively "Have you been enjoying yourself?"

She blinked in confusion, before bluntly responding "Hell yeah!"

He relaxed, before commenting "Then relax! If it becomes a problem, then we'll deal with it together, but there's no point crapping all over a fantastic day!"

She nodded, before commenting "Even so, there is still work to be done. I still have a lot of pace to find, and I need someone familiar with the car to talk me through handling and setup."

Naoto grinned. "That, I can help you with."

* * *

 **Kimi's Qualified in second, and I'm shook. We're overdue some good luck, so I'm looking forward to Sunday. With regards to this Chapter, I wanted to lend some humanity to Lelouch and provide an insight into how he thinks, which will come much more into play later in the story. I'm a little disappointed the race didn't get any reviews, but sure look now, that happens. I'd really like to hear about which characters you'd like to see, and what direction you want me to take this.**

 **Also, you bet your ass Kallen is going to call in that favour.**

 **~Eth0**


	5. OK5 - Fail To Prepare

**OK5 - Fail To Prepare**

* * *

After Japan, the calendar moved to the Principality of Monaco, nestled between the long mountain ranges and Mediterranean coasts of the French Riviera. Which, for one man, meant only one thing.

 _"Bouillabaisse! Rivalz! Viens ici et vois ce!"_

Lelouch Lamperouge was home, or near as damn it, and always made sure to indulge himself during his yearly weekend in the Côte d'Azur where he grew up, whether in culture, recreation, or food. He remembered introducing Suzaku to the wonders of Daube when they visited together for the GP2 event back in the day. To him, there was something truly glorious in introducing the uninitiated to the glories of the worlds finest cuisine.

As it was Rivalz's first season in the sport, Lelouch took it upon himself to educate his colleague on gastronomical affairs, as, if he was being honest, his racing was beyond helping.

Not that, in his heart of hearts, Lelouch minded; If Rivalz did badly, it made him look more attractive to other teams in comparison, and Rivalz was the image of a happy amateur, just pleased to be a part of the circus for even as brief a time as he was, and willing to be played.

Tucking into the fish stew, Lelouch again waved over to Rivalz to get over to the food stall to try it out, however his beleaguered colleagues reply was drowned by the noise of a six cylinder turbocharged engine rushing past across the street, its hoarse bellow demanding all aural attention.

The Grand Prix in Monte Carlo was a complete anachronism, Lelouch reflected, as Rivalz came rushing over through the crowded pavement. The race was held entirely on cordoned off streets, with narrow roadways completing the tight, tricky horror show that felt like ice skating in a bathtub for how close you always were to a collision with the barrier at any given moment. So, of course, Suzaku was out there at the moment, pounding as many laps into that Rosenberg as he could get away with. It was entirely typical of him to spend every available moment practising to perfect his lines and his pace.

At the end of the day however, fish stew was too good to pass up, and so Lelouch, and eventually Rivalz began to eat in earnest, with the mother of all soundtracks whizzing about in the background.

While some might have described this style as lazy, Lelouch preferred to consider it wary; the cash strapped Ashford team couldn't afford a rebuild out of the overall budget, and so it would come out of his wages if he crashed the car, something that was prone to happen at the tightest track in circulation. In any event, he knew the track extremely well, having been born nearby and having began his career in carting at this track, before the excrement hit the ventilator, as it were.

Lelouch tuned in his ear to Suzaku's sound, resonating through the streets of the Principality, to prove his point. Squeals and grinding, high pitched scraping indicated a heavy braking zone, likely turn one at Sainte Devote. This was confirmed by Suzaku's rapid acceleration as he audibly flew up the gears towards Massanet, a fleety high speed section that unbalanced the car and flew it into Casino Square. Subconsciously, Lelouch felt his right hand curl up, and forcefully jerk down as he imagined himself, alongside Suzaku, cresting through Mirebeau before it returned to an upright position, the steering wheel opening up as they ran down towards the Loews hairpin. Here, Suzaku's noise dampened, as he tried to fully lock his steering to wrap the car around the tight corner at walking pace. Lelouch waited for Suzaku to pick up the throttle out of the hairpin, noting it was a little earlier than he would have done by instinct. Perhaps he could try that approach once he got out in the car.

The car continued quickly through Portier, with an ambiguous, yet audible lift off the throttle that intrigued Lelouch. Was he slow through that corner? Interesting.

The volume really picked up as the Rosenberg wound itself up through the tunnel section. Lelouch, now fully invested in the faraway lap, mimicked the gear changes with his fingers up and up through fifth, sixth, seventh, noting that Suzaku didn't quite reach eighth before slamming onto the brakes and going back down to second, bang bang bang bang bang, each gearchange indicated with an airy whoosh and mechanical clang in between the whirring of the forced induction motor. Satisfied, Lelouch rolled his imaginary car through the first part of the Nouvelle chicane, before following Suzaku's noise through the high speed Tabac corner, not lifting, the Swimming Pool left-right, then down into Rascasse, and away back onto the front straight.

And, right on cue, the Doppler Effect beckoned the arrival of Suzaku, who rushed past Lelouch's cafe view of the pit straight before continuing for another lap. Satisfied, Lelouch zoned back in to realise Rivalz was not talking.

Rivalz, as well as backing Lelouch in most everything, had a second role on the team. He was Lelouch's canary. He would talk and talk until the cows had gone home, retired, and died of some manner of age related illness, unless something was very much amiss.

And he wasn't talking.

Lelouch gingerly looked up from his fantasy lap and fish stew to face Mildred Ashford, Team Principal and daughter of lead engineer Reuben, who was very much unamused at the teams two drivers. It wasn't a grimace she greeted them with, Lelouch noted, as it was not her way to be so blunt; she buried displeasure within layers of sarcasm and irony, smiling sadistically as she undoubtedly complemented just how to discipline her drivers.

Hoping to preempt what could quickly turn into another Nürburgring-in-drag incident if mismanaged, Rivalz, with impressive initiative, found his voice again.

"Oh hello Milly! Lelouch was just showing me around. He thought we should grab a bite to eat before Reuben sets up the car for FP1. Can't race on an empty stomach, eh?"

Mouth full, Lelouch could only nod at the incredulous Milly, whose crossed arms did not budge. Indeed, the only response their efforts received was a raised eyebrow and a harshened smirk, as if to give a pitying acknowledgment of Rivalz's efforts, and a similarly pseudo-sympathetic reply.

"A spirited defence, but the car has been ready for fifteen minutes. Moreover, if you're interested in some culture, I can arrange-"

"What was that about the car being ready?" Lelouch swallowed, suddenly attentive. Milly was as close to him as Suzaku, albeit in different way, and yet she always managed to put him on edge with her threats. Such was the nature of their relationship, but it was appreciated more at some times than others.

"Fantastic. I'll have Shirley escort you down to pit lane."

Rivalz, who seemed to be enjoying his introduction to Gallic gastronomy, nodded, picking up his bowl and moving to follow Millie's direction, however Lelouch, irked, stood into her ear and commented "I'm glad you're happy, but keep your pranks to the off-season."

"Just like your misadventures with Kozūki?" Milly retorted jovially, knowing just how to wind him up, inferring that his advising of and collision with the new driver implied a deeper connection.

Lelouch, displeased, responded harshly "Kozūki is a just a means to an end."

It was perhaps reductionist, but nonetheless true. The Ashford cars performance was less than optimal, and so, if he was to score good points, he had to sow chaos among the cars further up the field, and thread the needle when they faltered. Kallen, as a new driver, was the ideal flashpoint to shake up the front of the grid, and allow Lelouch to sneak his way into podium finishes. However, Milly pushed the point, focusing on his cold rhetoric.

"A means to an end? And I'm not? All of us here at Ashford? Let's be honest, you've always had that sort of view of things."

Lelouch backed off slightly, and reverted to frowning across the cafe table rather than over it. Unsure how to proceed, he simply asked "I'm afraid I don't know exactly what you mean."

Milly smirked, and continued "Nunnally is the goal, everything else is tertiary to you, even me, or Suzaku. You're fixated on a drive with another team, on points, and so on, simply for that."

"Bold assertion. You should have gone into tabloid journalism." Lelouch deflected, not finding much substance to be offended by. To show anger was to admit victory to Milly.

"Your agent hasn't renewed your contract."

"C.C is the laziest human alive, you know that as well as I do."

"A contract for next season is on my desk, ready to sign, whenever you want."

This was more of a problem, as Millies assertion had to be addressed on the spot, and couldn't be put off. After some squirming, he explained vaguely "I don't want to be tied down to a contract until I have all my stuff together. Once everything falls into place, I'll sign."

"In other words, once all the other teams decline to negotiate with you. Don't worry, I'm well aware you dislike contracts. It's why our relationship is only professional, right? You didn't want to be tied down."

Lelouch was now thoroughly annoyed, replying "No, our relationship is professional because when it wasn't, you seemed to take it upon yourself to try ruin my career for your own personal amusement. That is tantamount to messing with Nunnally, and I think I've made my opinions on that matter very clear."

He grabbed his coat, hung over the chair, as if to emphasise the finality of his statement, before marching off after Rivalz.

* * *

Suzaku, thoroughly exhausted by the morning's practise session, stepped out from his survival cell as it was swarmed by mechanics who crawled over the carbon tub, attending to the vehicles every need, protecting the tyres with blankets and extracting all manner of fluids and data from areas of the car which, to the untrained eye, would seem inert.

Of course, Suzaku made sure to be as educated on the mechanical underpinnings of his car, or at least as much as Lloyd Asplund was able to vocalise without going on a tangent or making a great fuss over protecting the secrecy of his designs from the woman. The woman was never named, and it took Suzaku two months to be told who Lloyd was constantly going on about, and only then in the privacy of a smoke filled German pub. Nevertheless, he took in and appreciated any snippets he could as to the cars operation, as it ensured that he would always have a healthy understanding of how to improve the car over a practice session.

"We're having a lot of understeer on medium speed corners." he explained to Lloyd, who had gradually grown somewhat used to the concept of constructive criticism over the previous year and a half, insofar as it was an apparatus that made his car better than _the woman's_ , even if it meant that he had to accept that his designs were anything other than divinely inspired. He continued "I think if we loosened the suspension, and compensated by stiffening the anti roll bars, we could carry more speed through Portier."

"Oh bother. You're ever so fussy, Suzaku. If you must, then I'll see to it. Hmmph." Lloyd noted, scribbling grumpily into his notepad. "Alright folks, the driver has spoken. Chop chop, let's get the Lancelot all set up to go for our boy wonder. Can't be outdone, now can we?"

The Rosenberg engineer wandered off, likely searching for some low level employee to scorn as he continued to shout in his high pitched, yet distrait speech that wandered back and forth whimsically across the atelier with little rhyme or reason. Such was the world according to Lloyd Asplund, who had renounced a lucrative family business in investment banking to spend fifteen years underneath engine assemblies and refused to dress like a human being even at press events. In spite of this, he had a knack for building exceptional cars that outperformed the teams modest budget, even if they proved somewhat lairy to control.

Grabbing his lap times and diagnostics, he quickly scanned his times and data, noting the laps he went below one minute thirty seconds and seeing what those laps had in common with regards to braking points and lines. Much like Lloyd, he found himself wandering as he pored over the information, guessing at potential gains on the exit of the swimming pool section and the final corner, stepping out into the sunlit pitlane proper. Taking a moment as the mediterranean conditions settled onto him, he watched the garages down the way wake up, just beginning the Friday work of honing their cars for the circuits extraordinarily specific demands. One or two cars pulled out of pitlane, with Suzaku noticing Lelouch's Ashford-RT grumbling its way out onto the track.

For all the stick the outdated car was given, with both Rivalz and Lelouch having to adopt strategies ripped from casinos to compensate for the lacklustre engine, this was arguably the one track where that didn't apply, with short straights meaning that the cars chassis, designed by the godfather of the modern Grand Prix car Reuben Ashford, could impress, if the team came together and delivered a solid weekend.

A pretty significant if, given their patent disunity.

Suzaku, who was still waiting for his car to be adjusted, stepped over to the pit wall overlooking the track, and sipped away at a card cup of coffee. Their main sponsor, Schneizel El. Britannia, was away, and Cecile Croomy was nowhere in sight to pounce on him with offers of sandwiches of dubious origin, and so he could take a moment to relax, a task he was still working out the intricacies of.

Even in his youth, Suzaku had always maintained a strict discipline, particularly in the wake of his father, a prominent politician, spending a majority of the time anywhere but home, and growing up Suzaku realized he would only be able to enforce success onto himself, and ought to do all that was possible of him. This extended to his attitude towards others, however, as Lelouch showed, his shouldering nature didn't always rub off.

The teams psychiatrist, Anya, had had only one recommendation when he began his Grand Prix career with the team; a holiday, to relieve stress. Finding it one of the most unpleasant experiences of his life, he decided to try ease into it a little more gently, one polystyrene coffee at a time.

"Excuse me?"

Suzaku finished his sip and turned to see Kallen, dressed up in her purple-on-red overalls adorned with the plethora of sponsors that kept the circus that was Rebellion-Sakura with a competitive Guren, even if the Type 2 Seiten was down on performance relative to the Camelots Sutherland. She looked a little tired, clearly out of her native time zone. He nodded as he turned to face her, greeting her with a "Morning." in Japanese, before asking, continuing in their mother tongue, "Are you not setting up the car?"

"They want to fettle Tohdoh's car right now, limited staff and so on." Kallen shrugged. "They said come back in ten minutes."

Suzaku, though surprised that a championship winning team only had one setup crew, didn't comment, and suckled at the last dregs of his coffee before coolly asking "So what's the story?"

"Naoto just wanted to say thanks for the laptop. He's only got one hand, but he was getting bored out of his mind just sitting there."

Suzaku chuckled, and replied "There's only so many anime reruns he could gorge on. I'm glad he's enjoying himself. Has he been helping you out at all, with the team?"

"Of course." Kallen nodded,. "He went through the track with me on the computer, explained the car, setup, and so on. He's been a massive help."

"And Tohdoh?"

"Eh, he's kept himself to himself." Kallen replied nonchalantly. "It's not ideal, but it's hardly as if nobody expected that. He's always been reserved."

Suzaku was again concerned, however he didn't want to interfere in any intrateam affairs, instead diplomatically commenting "At least you'll get good practice this weekend, no rain likely until Tuesday week, unlike Japan. The more time on track, the better."

"So you really feel all the extra practice makes a difference?" Kallen asked, clearly interested by Suzaku's focus. He nodded in reply, saying "Every lap improves my consistency, my timings, and my knowledge, dialling it all into muscle memory. The longer you're out on track, the more familiar you become with how to manage it. It's like anything else; you've got to study."

Perhaps it was a little preachy, but Suzaku nonetheless felt that ultimately success came down to how much work you were willing to put into achieving it. Flamboyance, natural pace and so on was all well and good, but its ceiling was far below that of the cool, efficient smoothness that came with practise.

However, Kallen seemed to quirk her head at this analysis, prompting him to ask "What do you make of that?"

Taking a moment to formulate her argument, Kallen eventually murmured "But do you not… feel the car to any extent? The way the wheel shakes, resistance to turning, the shaking in your seat, as transmitting the road surface and tuning you into the circuit in and of itself?"

Suzaku took his turn to shrug, replying "I tend to dial all that out, I find it distracts from what's mathematically optimal. The racing line's the racing line no matter what the road 'feels' like."

"True." Kallen admitted. "But, just in terms of, say, traction zones, different parts of tarmac, the graining on the track, do you not feel these things to any extent, and think 'It's slippy here, I can… sense it from a change in road texture'? By instinct if nothing else?"

"I think anyone who puts a lot of stock in instinct is going about this the wrong way." Suzaku answered, a response which visibly sent a pert curiousity through Kallen. Evidently, she did not share his opinions, a fact she vocalized in the admittedly inconclusive reply "I guess we'll see soon, won't we?"

She looked like she was going to go on extolling the virtues of her doctrine, however she was interrupted by the wandering, airy voice of Chief Engineer Lloyd Asplund announcing in regal English "The car's all ready Suzaku, now if you could…"

His voice, trailing off, reached a croaking end as he looked across the pit lane, and saw who Suzaku was talking to. He stared, and eventually moved to point out of shock, before beginning to voice his protests.

"Suzaku! G...get away! That girl is an agent of the enemy! Back, quickly man, before you spill any secrets to the spy of that… _harlot_! What on Earth are you thinking, hurry, before she incapacitates you for the race!"

Suzaku, well used to Lloyd's paranoia, could only sigh and mouth an apology to Kallen before hopping back over the railing, taking care to not spill the last of his coffee, and returning to his car. Balaclava, chuck the coffee, HANS, helmet, and into the car, snug as ever. He watched the head surround fall into place above his shoulders, cocooning him within the carbon tub, one with the machine.

"We've fixed up the suspension at your behest. Also, don't frighten me like that ever again young man, we can't allow Chawla to get a glimpse of what we're doing."

Suzaku chuckled, shaking his head, before sliding out the clutch with his ring finger and pulling away. Thirty degrees right, lock in pit limiter. Five degrees right, five left, and throttle up to second. Muscle memory borne of practise, like a third language. Brake at the fifty metre board, eighty degrees right.

* * *

 **Suzaku and Kallen have a really good dynamic that I wish as more explored in canon. They will be our two rivals going forward, and we'll have to see who ahs the advantage going through this race weekend. However, they will both have to get their houses in order before anything else. For now, thank you for reading, and, if it's not too much trouble, please review. See ya!**

 **~Eth0**


	6. OK6 - The Court Jester

**OK6 - The Court Jester**

* * *

"Welcome to what is, unquestionably, the most important grid line up of the year. My socks are two days old, and I speak no French, but I shall persevere nonetheless for the sake of all of you watching at home. This is the Monaco Grand Prix."

Diethard Reid, microphone in hand, chuckled at his own joke, poking fun of his exaggerated woes as he spoke into the camera opposite him, manned by a bulky man who followed the reporter through his various misadventures on the pre race grid, interviewing, goofing off, and generally being entertaining for the home audience who paid to watch this circus on television all across the planet.

After leaving a gap after his statement for emphasis, he qualified his bold claim, explaining "Of course, the Monaco track, for all the excitement this narrow circuit provides in terms of displaying raw skill, is such that overtaking in anger takes a whole other level of skill, meaning that track position here is more valuable than at any other circuit on the calendar. A talented driver can easily hold an opponent behind, even with a pace deficit, which means that the race on Sunday can easily be won in Saturday Qualifying. With all that in mind, let's see how the drivers line up on the grid this afternoon for what could be a cracking race."

Allowing the editor back in the commentary box to cut to an edit of the order on the television, Diethard took a moment before launching into the list, held up by an aide beside the cameraman for him to read off of.

"Lining up on pole position for the first time this season is Kyoshiro Tohdoh, who was surely delighted to finally reach the front row of the grid after three starts behind Camelots in a row. Can he hold on to take the lead of the championship after such a miserable start to the season compared to his prior pace? We'll see. He's joined at the front by Suzaku Kururugi, who dragged his Rosenberg to second, albeit with a deficit to Tohdoh of almost three tenths of a second on their respective fastest laps."

Pausing briefly, he continued "Nonetheless, it is a welcome show of pace from Kururugi, particularly after his win in his native Japan. Also outperforming his usual is the man in third place, local driver Lelouch Lamperouge, who made full use of his car's light weight and shorter wheelbase to achieve the best qualifying of his whole career at a track where his Ashford-RT's lack of engine power is not a major concern. Will he hold on for his careers first podium, less than fifty miles from his birthplace? Again, we shall see, particularly in light of this being a race that depends heavily on strategy, something he is renowned for."

Taking a moment to breathe, Diethard resumed his rundown, reading "Joining Lelouch on the second row of the grid is Kallen Kōzuki, who leapt ahead of her respectable debut performance in Japan and leapfrogged the Camelots, who line up fifth and sixth, with Gino Weinberg finding a tenth of a second in the final sector to qualify ahead of his teammate Cornelia. That fight is between the championship leaders, and so is worth keeping an eye on. However, with the tight corners not suiting their cars size and weight, they have it all to do to retain that lead in the championship. Odysseus McGlynn, the other Rosenberg driver, qualified sixth, undoubtedly disappointed in that deficit to Suzaku. The fourth row is filled by the two Lancer drivers line of stern, Bradley ahead of Nu. Ninth is Rivalz Cardemonde, in Q3 for the first time, and in tenth place is the Geely of Li Xingke."

Diethard smiled as the camera cut back to him, having prepared his look, and invitingly nodded "And that's your top ten qualifiers. Let's see if we can grab a conversation with some of them, shall we?".

He turned away from the camera with the enthusiastic glee of a child stirring trouble, poking through the crowds to spy out those people relevant to his coverage. He was a war correspondent, infiltrating enemy lines with slightly bent knees and the smell of champagne about him.

"Let's see…" he mused, wandering through the crowd of washed up celebrities who circulated the Mediterranean Principality, ducking under other news crews and equipment to reach more relevant folk. "I wonder if Clovis Reigal is lurking about here someplace, he always has some fun controversial opinions, but I can't… seem to find…"

Diethard's train of thought, vocalized through his microphone for the benefit of the ladies and gentlemen, tapered off, as he tried to peer his way through interview candidates towards the read end of the grid. He continued forward against the tide, determined to find someone, before catching wind of the unmistakable rasp of Shinichiro Tamaki.

Leaping at the opportunity, Diethard made for the hoarse voice like a mouse into a cheese trap, almost leaping over a stray tyre warmer to reach the hitherto hidden driver of the Densō-Sakura, who seemed fixated on explaining his engineers' many inadequacies and failings as a human being to whoever would listen. Fortunately, Diethard was more than willing to humour him.

"Absolutely unbelievable…" concluded the Asian, before Diethard asked "How are conditions today, are there any weather concerns?"

"Um…"

Shinichiro paused, before parsing out with great difficulty "It's erm… sunny out. It's warm, a little windy, I dunno. Little cloud, but sparse enough. Pretty decent day in all. Might have a swim after the race."

"Heh, very good, very good. Your car obviously struggled in Qualifying, with your start in 16th position. How's life down at the back of the grid?"

"You know, you never interviewed me when I was up around tenth or eleventh, it's only now that I'm at the back of the grid that you've finally noticed I'm driving. All those good drives and my first interview with you is in 16th. I'll have you know that I've been kicking-"

"Alright, so here's your chance to shine." Diethard interrupted, fearing Tamaki might say something irrecoverable, and slapped him on the back before asking "So do you think today is going to be one of those good drives? Do you think points are on the cards if you play 'em right?"

"Oh, for sure!" Shinichiro nodded, his demeanour suddenly shifting with the ease of a schizophrenic. "I'm feeling some major progress in this race, no doubt about it!"

Buoyed by both the ludicrous nature of the promise, and the confident air of the man who delivered it, Diethard could only chuckle and reply "Well, we'll be certain to give you plenty of air time if that proves to be the case. Give 'em hell!"

Tamaki nodded, providing the camera with a toothy grin before returning to admonish the engineer who had been enjoying his brief respite. Diethard hid an instinctive shaking of his head, burying his disdain for the sort of uncivilised behaviour that would never have stood in his day.

Diethard was a driver of Tohdoh's generation, if a few seasons older. He had become a commentator the year after retiring with only two wins to his name, and honestly found his new position much more enjoyable. That said, his disposition was a whole further generation removed from even Tohdoh's, or even Cornelia's, cold professionalism, and more towards the long standing view of racing as a gentlemanly sport that demanded strong accents and ridiculous moustaches.

That generation had long since departed, and Tohdoh's generation was well into the cushy numbers, with attendants beginning to stack up the empty chairs at the back of the concert hall and some of the lights now beginning to turn back on, the string nearly played out. While drivers like Kururugi gave him faith in the future, the antics of Tamaki and Lamperouge only degraded the sport, at least in Diethard's opinion.

Moving along, Diethard darted back and forth before catch a glimpse of someone else who gave an interesting interview, of for very different reasons. It was surprising he'd missed him for so long, given the man's gigantic size, tremendous beard and foreboding demeanour that trailed him like the cape of an Emperor, but it was only in that moment that the man revealed himself. The head of the FIA, Charles Zi Britannia, who was another generation removed from even Diethard, had graced the grid with his not insignificant presence, commanding vast attention.

The story of how this British royal became the sports COO required one to go back to the early 1970's, a simpler time, when the motorsports community was in a societal stupor in the wake of the wildly successful misadventures of Charles Zi Britannia's beard. Within this beard, and the British royal it possessed the body of to manifest its various evils with, lay many great technical innovations, which were uncovered after he ended up not quite making the royal line of succession and deciding to vent his lineage-based frustrations by buying a Grand Prix racing team.

He founded what was now Camelot-Yggdrasil, then Akasha Racing, and won the championship twice. However, what many missed while searching for a priest to free Charles from his governing facial hair was his increasing accumulation of power. Even more so than making cars go very quickly, he was immensely skilled at negotiating backroom deals and accruing influence. For conceding the legally contested 1980 World Championship prior to the Stewards ruling on a crash between the two title contenders, he received the votes necessary to become the head of FOCA and the Teams Committee.

This was before all the attention left him to a collection of young engineers in various states of inebriation who burst onto the scene in a wild display of drunken mania in early 1990, who, having decided that ruining a young managers search for a third world championship was not good enough for them, went on to revolutionise motor racing forever. This list included Reuben Ashford, in the twenty minutes where he had a good engine to strap to his increasingly zany concepts, and later Lloyd Ashford and Rakshata Chawla.

They won 23 World Championships between them after 1990, and Charles did not win a single one. By 2004, he gave up, and stepped down to become head of the sport and proceeded to busy himself with dragging the sport kicking and screaming into someplace that vaguely resembled the twenty first century, with rules requiring hybrids and electronics that, ironically, primarily hurt the teams that had forced him out of the sport who, for all their accolades, had been running their teams on two pence and a shoestring.

Eager to steal a question from the magnate, Diethard boldly approached the imposing man, like Ahab might have approached his charge, and swept in at a moment of opportunity, breaking the ice with the man with "Lovely afternoon for a race, isn't it?"

Charles pivoted his head towards Diethard, standing at least four inches above the reporter, before responding "Diethard, that is not a question worth my time. Ask more interesting questions with the one chance I am giving you."

Undeterred by the man's typical brusqueness, Diethard persevered, moving on to his more serious question, beginning with "The figures for last years British Grand Prix are just coming out, and the venue is continuing to lose money for the sport. The license to race there for the sport is to be renewed in a few months. There's still a lot of love for the track among the fanbase, but is that enough? Are we heading towards our last British Grand Prix?"

Charles' view softened, his demeanour became somewhat more palatable, as he leaned in towards the camera and chuckled "Don't be naughty, asking silly questions like that. It'll all be sorted out in due time."

"And Monte Carlo? It has the opposite problem, with plenty of funds but little love beyond its history. Is there any there there, or?"

Charles only chuckled and said "You didn't have any trouble back in nineteen ninety one, back when you were driving my car to a win. Monte Carlo has had a place on the cake set since the fifties, and I don't see why we should change that."

Such was the paternalistic autocrat, and Charles, evidently satisfied with that answer, moved on, turning his significant mass away and leaving Diethard feeling very small, and very awkward. It took him a moment, as it did with most everyone, to shake off the sense of imminent danger that Charles carried around him, before going to find someone less intimidating to talk to.

This individual presented himself promptly in the form of an unmistakeable lavender haired Briton sprinting up the paddock in a sweater and a panic, clutching a metal apparatus as if his life depended on it. Amused, Diethard gave lighthearted chase as the social recluse handed the item over to a mechanic, who then buried it deep within the bowels of Odyessus's Rosenberg. After the incident cleared up, Diethard pulled Lloyd aside to have a chat, with the engineer not protesting beyond a surprised "Hullo!"

Eager to find an explanation to what had transpired "That was an interesting display, running about the place with such vigor, what was happening? Was there a problem with the car, or anything serious? I assume you fixed it..."

"Oh, just a bothersome spark plug." Lloyd shrugged, as if his display was anything other than the spitting image of a headless chicken let loose on the most expensive car park on Earth. "Sorted it out in a jiffy, and we're all back on track. Happens from time to time when people get clumsy."

Diethard nodded, before asking "Why is your car so fast Lloyd?"

Before Lloyd could answer however, he was interrupted by the car starting up behind them both, initially screeching as the cylinders tried to find some momentum within their atomically tight casings, before the high pitched noise gave way to one much deeper, a low growl that was still loud enough to prevent Lloyd from replying. By the time the engine returned to idle, Diethard could only ask "Why is it so noisy actually? Sounds like something the Victorians would build trying to get to the bloody moon!"

Lloyd laughed, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly before replying gingerly "Well that's an engine for you, pretty loud, but I'll have to keep our pace a trade secret if it's all the same to you."

"Heh, very good, very good." Diethard chuckled , before asking "And how're your drivers? Are they feeling confident?"

"I would certainly hope so." Lloyd joked, before replying "I've certainly given them the tools, and they're paid handsomely enough, so we'll see. We've put a lot of work into the car, and so we'll be expecting some results with our best qualifying performance."

"I suppose we'll have to ask them." Diethard replied, before continuing "Back to you, do you think that you can hold the position, or perhaps even challenge Tohdoh from the position you're in, or is that a bridge too far?"

Lloyd looked as if he was about to respond, before a brown blur popped up from behind his shoulder and gripped on, shocking him. It took a moment for the figure to come into focus, with Diethards vision eventually forming the slender figure of Rakshata Chawla, pipe in mouth and grin on face. After settling on a disturbed Lloyd Asplund's shoulder, she laughed and answered Diethards question.

"No chance this pathetic reprobate can challenge in the race!"

The Chief Engineer of the Rebellion-Sakura team laughed maniacally as Lloyd shook her off her shoulder, before she continued, in between fits of chuckles at Lloyd swiping himself as if trying to remove some manner of stain from his overalls, with "His lucky driver might be on a winning streak, but if you want to win, you gotta build a car that can finish. You looked pretty panicked there over that spark plug!"

"Error on the part of the mechanics, nothing more!" Lloyd humphed indignantly, clearly upset, before continuing "At least my car is winning races, yours are so uncontrollable both of your drivers crashed in Japan!"

Diethard was enjoying himself thoroughly, watching the pair bicker continuously, however he felt obliged to intervene before the Monte Carlo police had a murder on their hands and so spoke up, saying "Please! Have your drivers settle your differences on track! The race hasn't started yet!"

Both engineers stopped, before settling to simply glare at one another like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. After solving Anglo-Indian relations, Diethard, ever ambitious, moved on to ask "Well, clearly you can't agree on one another, but can you at least agree on the competition out there today? The Camelots and so on, how do you reckon they will fare?", hoping to find some bipartisanship between the longtime rivals when it came to their competitors.

Lloyd shrugged, before commenting "They picked a hell of a track to be down the order in. It's not like before, when you could perhaps try an overtake into the Loews Hairpin or the Swimming Pool Chicane."

"It'll have to be in the pit stop phases." Rakshata agreed. "Pitting off of strong in laps are pretty much the only way to overtake without risking damaging car. Of course, a safety car could change up the whole race."

"Not much of a risk, hardly as if crashing that heap of rubbish would be a loss to the world." Lloyd teased, causing Diethard to preemptively intervene and say "Alright, alright, very good.", before they sparked a second Anglo-Satsuma War. The pair calmed with significant grievance, again reminding him of spoiled children.

The point about a safety car, though lost to history due to Lloyds snark, was not invalid. Monaco had seen a safety car in every single race run for over two decades, and these moments of reduced pace could save one time in the pits relative to the rest of the field, as the pit lane speed was the same as during green flag racing. Instead of losing twenty seconds, one only lost around twelve if they pit at the right moment. That could make or break a race.

He was now however stuck for some manner of distraction for the two, before a very loud one saved him; the national anthem, inordinately prideful for such a small nation however nonetheless welcome, as it required all the drivers to congregate and acknowledge it near the start line. With such a loud reminder that the race was but moments away, the pair both jumped on the spot and fled to fettle their precious creations.

Diethard, amused, simply shook his head as if noting a pair of toddlers behaving childishly, before turning back to the camera and saying "Well, that was a thing. Anyway, that's your word on the grid; intense competition from the top two, not much room to improve from the Camelots, an angry Charles, and an ambitious Tamaki. I for one am looking forward to what is to follow, but for now, I'm returning to the commentary box to join the Great Gottwald, and get ready for the green light across the way."

Utterly disgusted with himself for that pun, Diethard signalled to the camera to cut the feed, before running up to his station above turn one.

* * *

 **Framing device? What name so? In any case, I was hoping to expand on the world a bit in light of an apparent lack of direction, though, as ever, if there's someone you'd like to see more of, be sure to ask, and review in general! Keeps the show on the road as it were. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next week!**

~ **Eth0**


	7. OK7 - High Stakes

**OK Number Seven: High Stakes**

* * *

"Five red lights, to the Monaco Grand Prix… and… away we go! Kururugi gets a good start, but so does Tohdoh. Suzaku looks to the outside, but Tohdoh holds the corner! Tohdoh holds his lead out of the first corner. However, Kallen is more successful, as she dives up the inside of Lelouch and they almost touch! Inches away from tragedy for the two drivers, but they both come away clean. I can't imagine either driver wanted a repeat of Japan. Kallen is through into third!"

"Not at all Diethard. Looking down the grid actually, not much action, apart from Tamaki pulling off a beautiful dive bomb and getting up into fifteenth place, but I can't see him getting much higher now."

Diethard nodded at Jeremiah's note, watching as Tamaki, in spite of visibly locking up both front wheels, was nonetheless able to place his car on the apex and barge his way up the grid. He had to give the man, he certainly had bravery, however Diethard doubted that that would be sufficient to succeed in the long term.

In the meantime, Kyoshiro Tohdoh was just entering the Loews hairpin with a small but noteworthy gap to Suzaku behind, braking gingerly, safe in the knowledge that it was quite difficult to overtake here, or indeed anywhere. To emphasise this, he added "That was unquestionably a great start by Tohdoh. Didn't get it right in Japan, but he is now in the lead as the pack moves through Portier."

"This is the corner Suzaku was complaining about having troubles with on Friday, but he seems to be keeping pace, at least relative to the rest of the track, however Tohdoh should have the legs on him down towards the swimming pool. One hundred and eighty miles per hour as they approach the chicane, can Suzaku have a look at passing?"

"No, too far back already." Diethard predicted, and was proven correct, as Suzaku instead chose to file in behind Tohdoh and follow the optimal line. He was followed by Kallen Kōzuki, who was about three tenths behind, and then by Lelouch, who was another seven tenths.

"Nonetheless, all seem to be through the chicane safely." Jeremiah confirmed as the drivers whizzed by the camera positioned on the exit of Tabac, in a linear procession. The camera then cycled to an onboard view of Kururugi, which certainly made for interesting viewing. His engines were a ways away from the highest of revs, and seemed to be driving extremely conservative.

"Look at how slow he's going…" Diethard commented, surprised by the near idling engine. "This is going to an immensely frustrating afternoon for Suzaku if he can't get past Tohdoh soon."

"Bear in mind now Diethard, that it's not as if Tohdoh's a slouch, he's won this race twice before. He thinks, and he's not wrong, that this is Monaco, it's incredibly easy to crash, and so he's not going to push the limits. Moreover, if there's a safety car, and there has been at least one every race for decades, then all his gains will be scrapped. In his mind, he thinks he might as well save the tyres for later. He's the one holding everyone behind though, so-"

Jeremiah was interrupted by the radio feed, broadcasted from Suzaku's in-car microphone and sent up live to the commentary box. It began with Chief Engineer Lloyd Asplund speaking as Suzaku tackled a sudden snap of oversteer through Rascasse.

"Dear Suzaku, of course you're doing a smashing job out there, but I didn't build you that masterpiece for you to drive it like an elderly woman!"

Suzaku, who was visibly wrestling with his wheel through Anthony Noghes in the wake of Tohdoh's dirty air, took a moment before replying once he swung onto the short pit straight with "If I go closer, the dry air destroys my tyres! I can't close up to overtake, we're going to have to get him on strategy!"

"For our viewers at home, while following a car can allow you to slipstream through the hole in the air the car ahead creates for more speed, it means your downforce is greatly reduced, slowing you down in corners. This is called dirty air, and here at Monaco it makes chasing a challenging experience."

The camera stayed with Suzaku for some time, watching as he settled into a rhythm a second behind Tohdoh, shifting into his trademark smooth style and settling his early sliding as heat was conducted into the tyres and the grip increased.

"Excuse me Jeremiah, but Tamaki didn't go past the camera there, Tamaki wasn't there in that camera shot, he's gone off somewhere. Something's gone wrong- oh, and the safety car has been called out! A safety car, on lap six of seventy!"

"And there's the remains of Tamaki's car there, on the exit of the Tunnel. What a strange place to have a crash, it does appear his car is facing backwards. Most odd, I'm sure the producers will show us a replay in due time."

"Indeed Jeremiah, however this is a critical moment. The top ten runners are running on the tyres they qualified on, which are soft and old, and they'll want to get off of them as soon as possible. Of course, a safety car means they'll lose less time in the pits, but can they take these hard tyres to the end of the race without running them down? With sixty four laps to go, that'd be a stretch, but definitely doable-"

"Hold on, team radio, it's Kōzuki."

Indeed it was, and as Diethard piped down, he listened intently to Kallen's brief instructions.

"Box now, primes to finish, primes to finish, will require management in latter half of the race."

The radio cut out, and Jeremiah nodded. "That confirms it. Tohdoh just entered turn one and did not pit, which means their putting their drivers on alternate strategies. They don't know what's faster, a shorter stop or a later stop."

"Should prove interesting." Diethard agreed, as he watched the stop on his screen. Efficient, yet understated, the car stopped, was swarmed by men in purple overalls, and drove away, about as quick as it took to say that sentence. The camera switched to an onboard shot as she dragged the cold, hard prime tyres out onto the first corner and dragged it round, pulling out into tenth place, just ahead of Rivalz Cardemonde, who had at some point lost ninth position to Li Xingke. However, with the safety car out and yellow flags in place, overtaking was illegal and speeds were heavily dropped as marshalls moved to clear up Tamaki's mess.

As if on cue, the camera moved again to a replay, and Diethard heard Jeremiah mutter "Finally…" just under his breath. Taking over, Diethard explained what he saw.

"So it appears Tamaki was attempting a move into the Tunnel out of Portier… he shifts his car to the outside line, pulling up towards Zhou Xianglin's Geely. Unorthodox place to attempt a pass but… no, no, he loses the back end as the long bend tightens, and hits the outside barrier."

"Yeah, that was only going to end one way." Diethard nodded. "The outside of the track isn't a good line, and is rarely used, as it has much less traction as the Tunnel curves in towards the straight. He just lost control of the car, the rear tyre skidded out of line, touched the wall, and that was all she wrote. It was an admirable Leeroy Jenkins move, but it ended in the old Leeroy Jenkins tradition."

Indeed, it seemed as if the high speed slide, rear wheels only in the initial phases of slithering out of Tamaki's control, could have been saved if there had been no barrier for him to knock against, and pivot in the opposite direction, rebounding against the inside barrier and spinning around, rolling out of the tunnel into the light with wrecked sidepods and carbon fibre shards everywhere, though protected by his carbon tub. The camera held on him stepping out of the car, visibly livid with how things had gone, which greatly amused Diethard.

"Lelouch is down the grid, Lelouch is now in eleventh by my readout, which means he's just after pitting onto Primes. It'll be interesting to see how this plays out as the pack bunches up behind the safety car, driven today by Marianne Zi Britannia."

Indeed it was, with the television feed cutting to an onboard shot of Marianne sawing back and forth at the chunky steering wheel of the safety car, driving ahead of the racing cars and keeping them to a designated pace, to ensure the marshalls could clear Tamaki's car. While their pace was slow for a Grand Prix car, Marianne's modified coupe was near full tilt, clearly demonstrated in how aggressively she was grappling with her controls. Not that she wasn't up to the task; Marianne had won three World Championships during the 1990's with Reuben Ashford, and had always stayed closely connected with the motorsports community, especially after marrying Charles.

She led the pack for six laps, before the call came through that it was safe to return to race speeds, which led to great vim within the commentary box.

"This is a real chance for Suzaku, if he's close enough behind on the restart he could pip Tohdoh into the first corner like he wasn't able to initially. Also, watch Kallen and Lelouch. They are on fresh rubber and down the pack, they could be making moves in the near future."

"They'll definitely need to Jeremiah, they need to be within twenty seconds of the lead cars for this strategy to work. We shall see, as the safety car is returning to the pit lane, and… the marshall has waved the green flag, and we're racing again! Tohdoh get a lightning start, and Suzaku is blown away! No chance into the first corner, and the procession continues."

Diethard was a little deflated initially, before he heard his colleague make a very strange noise, causing him to look again at the screen to catch a large amount of smoke at the corner of the screen. Utterly unsure of what this meant, Diethard simply reacted with a surprised "Oh my lord, what's happened here?"

His question remained unanswered until they were presented with a view of the incident. Diethard watched as Li Xingke on his older tyres, cold for having spent a few laps at a reduced pace behind the safety car, accelerating before turn one under immense pressure from Kallen and Rivalz, before suddenly his front wheels froze and suddenly began to skate across the tarmac. They stopped rotating, and began to draw up smoke from the friction of having too great a force applied in one jolt, as he experienced a horrific lock up. It forced him to skid his car down the run off area, and while he recovered the car back onto the track, his antics with braking lost him three positions, to Kallen, Rivalz and Lelouch respectively.

"This is very good for them." Jeremiah commented. "They need to be making up ground on track, because if they can gain time on this fresh rubber, there's a very real possibility of them leapfrogging the leaders when they have to pit themselves. That relies on them getting a move on while they have a pace advantage."

It certainly seemed as if they were getting that message, as Kōzuki at least was driving like a woman possessed. Sweeping through Mirebeau, she took a wide yet fast line through Loews and slingshotted the car around Portier, positively bombing her way through the tunnel as close to the inside wall as she dared. Braking quickly into the Nouvelle Chicane, she used all her grip, and all the width of the track to hold maximum speed, zipping through Tabac and darting about the Swimming Pool as if the car weighed but ounces, within inches of the barrier on exit for using the entire width of the track, and having the confidence to do so. It was little wonder when-

"Fastest! That's the fastest lap of the race so far from Kallen Kōzuki, a one minute sixteen point six! She is absolutely on it!"

"Quite incredible, she's already catching up to Villetta Nu." Diethard remarked. "Look how flat she is up Beau Rivage and Massanet, she is absolutely flying the car up there, supreme grip. There isn't even a hint of a lift, that's confidence."

However, this pace and this strategy would all be for naught if Nu proved to be a cork in the bottle. It only took two laps for Kallen to get up behind Nu's rear wing, and just as Suzaku had found with Tohdoh, the experience was less than ideal, with the car ahead to slow to drive properly behind, yet too big to pass.

"This could be a long afternoon indeed if she can't find a way through the Lancer. You can hear her lift off the throttle into Mirebeau painfully early, and follow… oh my, she's going for a move!"

It was an unlikely spot, however this was part of the reason Nu hadn't thought to defend; into the Loews hairpin, the tightest corner in modern motorsports, Kallen broke her car onto the kerb, literally dropping it on the raised apex and physically blocking off the corner, before pivoting round on full lock, barely dragging the front end of the car clear of the outside barrier.

"She's made it! The Rebellion-Sakura is through! Incredibly brave move, and she somehow has the traction on the run down towards Portier! Incredible stuff!"

Jeremiah's commentary was accurate, and, as it proved later, prescient, as she began to build a gap to Nu, and was now catching Bradley at a rate of knots.

"She is gaining just under a second per lap on Bradley, and is incrementally drawing towards the leading pack. Kallen Kōzuki is on a positive charge ladies and gents." Diethard announced, as she crossed the finish line to complete another fastest lap of the race. She was now only a second behind Bradley, and was in hot pursuit as they flew up the Casino Section. However, wisened to his colleagues error, he covered off the inside line into the hairpin, and held position as they moved through the Tunnel. Bradley remained ahead under braking, however he lost a lot of speed on exit, and was compromised through Tabac and the Swimming Pool.

At Rascasse, Kallen struck, faking to the outside before switching inwards, pulling off a dummy that allowed her to slide her car through the eye of the needle and pass ahead of Bradley, who thought that no one could fit a car through the gap he'd left, only to be proven wrong and overtaken before the front straight. Predictably, Jeremiah was rather excited about all this.

"That was absolutely incredible! Not but a flinch, and she throws it in there like she's practiced it! You can see just how comfortable she is with the car, one hundred percent dialled in. Overtaking at Monaco, now that's something. It's not as if it's experience talking either, she's only nineteen years old in her second race. I think we might be watching the start of something very special here today."

In spite of his colleagues predisposition to hyperbole, Diethard found himself agreeing as he watch her slither up the track. Yes, he thought to himself, slither was the best word. She was never still on track, always darting about the width of the circuit. Even on straights, she shook the car into squirming dances as if testing the grip in real time, and was able to fly into corners with reckless abandon, and yet somehow find the sporadic patches of tarmac that allowed her to control the car and swing around corners, looking at once on the edge of disaster and in complete control. Her hands aggressively hammered about the wheel like a seesaw, causing the car to scamper about from pocket of grip to patch of traction, completely unstable yet uncannily quick.

So quick, in fact, that she was causing a stir up the grid. On lap twenty two of seventy, Suzaku's radio flared into life.

"Pit for Primes Suzaku, Pit for Primes, we want to undercut Tohdoh and cut off Kallen, who is catching on fresh-ish Primes, you'll be taking those tyres to the end of the race."

The late announcement was made as Suzaku followed Tohdoh into Rascasse, the second to last corner, and so he was able to quickly move left into the pit lane, while the Rebellion pit crew were unable to call Tohdoh in before he had already passed by the pit lane entry.

"...and that..." Jeremiah emphasised "...was how you work strategy. Suzaku is going to get a strong undercut, unless Tohdoh does the lap of his life, because when Suzaku comes out, there'll be an interval where he is driving on fresher tyres before Tohdoh can pit, meaning he gains net time while Tohodoh is in his pit box."

Suzaku rolled his car in at the legal limit, slid it into the pit box and was almost immediately serviced, his new tyres replacing old within the blink of an eye, away before any comment could be made on the matter.

"Alright Suzaku, now bring my dear thing home in one piece!" Lloyd encouraged over the radio as Suzaku fiddled with the dials littering his steering wheel. As soon as he reached the exit line, the camera caught him flicking a switch up out of his limiter, and unleashing over six hundred Newton-Meters of torque into the fresh rear tyres, however the rubber dug in, and rocketed him towards the first corner. However, there was an important question.

"Where's he coming out? Will he stay ahead of Kallen and her undercut? I can just see him now from where I'm sitting… oh she's on the straight and closing… ohh, but he keeps the corner, and stays ahead!"

As Diethard said, Suzaku had indeed managed to cover off Kallen's pace on the new tyres, and with fresh rubber himself, was uniquely able to hold her off. The camera shifted to his cockpit view, allowing viewers to see how he drive, which served as an interesting comparison to Kallens doctrine of aggressive movement.

Suzaku was nothing like this. His style was incredibly soft and practiced, with incredibly supple inputs that seemed to live by the creed that smoothness brought speed. His hands moved slowly about the steering wheel, with only a single, fluid motion on turn in, and then a gentle releasing to straighten the car back up. Unlike Kallen, who adjusted and moved the wheel many times per corner, Suzaku never made minor movements of his wheel, preferring the large sweeps that maintained speed. It was sublime and unflappable, and allowed Suzaku to keep pace with his pursuer, where those before had not.

And, without obstruction, Suzaku began the work of catching Tohdoh as the double World Champion. What had been a twenty two second gap when Suzaku left the pits was whittled down, as he set the fastest first sector, fastest second sector, and-

"Fastest lap of the race from Suzaku Kururugi!" Jeremiah announced, before continuing "Stunning lap, and where does it put him relative to Tohdoh? Suzaku's passing the pit exit now, I don't see… oh there he is, and he comes out behind Kallen! Oh my lord, that was dramatic! Suzaku leads, followed by Kallen, though on tyres that are roughly eight laps older, and then Tohdoh, all within two seconds of one another. Lelouch is back a few seconds as well. The battle is joined!"

* * *

 **Indeed it is! Kallen has come along leaps and bounds, and now is right up there with the leaders. I hope you enjoyed this Chapter, and it'd mean the world to me if you could review! See you soon!**

 **~Eth0**


	8. OK8 - The Disobedient Servant

**OK Number Eight: The Disobedient Servant**

* * *

"And what's this now, team radio from Tohdoh."

Diethard looked down at his readout in light of Jeremiah's comment, and sure enough, the green light over that frequency was lit, and the empty air was eventually filled with the grumpy man.

"I need you to get Kōzuki out of the way. Suzaku is going to get away, I need her to move out of our battle. She's going to hold me up if she stays ahead."

"Well that's certainly forward." Diethard chuckled, amused at Tohdoh's brazen request. There was no tact or subtlety, just the simple act of pulling rank. Not that this was unprecedented; particularly in old-fashioned teams like Rebellion, the championship fortunes of the main driver of the team was a priority above the potential for a good individual result from the number two driver, and so many drivers, with some nudging from their engineer, might mysteriously and charitably give way to their teammate in a better championship position.

That didn't mean Diethard liked it, feeling that it took away from the genuine racing and was anticlimactic. However, he kept this to himself, and allowed Ohgi to deliver the bad news.

"Alright mate, Tohdoh has a lot of pace and a chance to win the championship from where he is. This race has the potential to be a massive points score, so let him through, let him through, it's for the team. Sorry about this."

Kallen was surprised, but gruff, not fully understanding what was being asked, responding "What do you mean? I'm in front right now, and am currently matching Suzaku. Why do I have to compromise my race?"

"Alright, I understand, but the team is insisting, he has the pace to catch Suzaku, and he has a championship to consider."

There was a beat, before Kallen replied "If he has a lot of pace, then why isn't he ahead of me?"

An excellent question as far as Diethard was concerned, and it did go a ways in endearing him further to Kallen, as she challenged the double world champion to a scrap. However, Diethard also noted a more angry undertone, somewhat outraged at the request and surprised by its existence. He imagined that there would be words shared outside the cockpit between the two drivers once the race was finished, but for now it was up to the pit crew to communicate Kallens reluctance to obey team orders.

"Okay, Kallen is refusing to give up the position, you'll have to make the move on track."

The response from Tohdoh was muddled, not least because it was generously censored, but also mired within the muddying grips of outrage, however the gist, that this was absolutely ridiculous, unacceptable, and all manner of other adjectives, was clear. The beleaguered engineer passed this message on to Ohgi, who ameliorated it considerably when passing it on to Kallen.

"Kallen, I'm afraid Tohdoh is insisting-"

"Are you serious? What the hell is this? We're bloody racing drivers, and if he doesn't want to race he can sod off back to Kyoto! I'm not giving up the position!"

"Well, that was unequivocal." Jeremiah chuckled, greatly enthused by her increasing frustration as this reply was relayed back to Tohdoh, who accepted Kallens challenge to his dominant position with little humour.

His first attempt was made immediately, as the pair moved up through the high speed Massanet corner, which was off camber and declined upwards before peaking and beginning to depress, forcing the car to feel light and unstable. Undeterred, Tohdoh dragged out to the outside of the circuit and pulled alongside as they both moved up towards the corner, rocketing up almost vertically towards Casino Square. As the track began to curve in and lean out, Tohdoh held his nose firmly in the fight in a stunning display of bravery and spatial awareness, threading the needle between losing control of the car and spinning out into the outside barrier, and losing control and crashing into Kallen on his inside. It was not dissimilar to the move that Tamaki had attempted before crashing, going to the outside of a fast corner, however Tohdoh had the skill to pull it off and retain the traction to bring it round.

However, for all his car control, that line simply didn't provide the mechanical grip to pivot his car ahead of Kallens, who held onto the inside as if her life depended on it, and so had retained track position.

"And so, as they head down to Casino Square, Kallen is ahead by just a bit, but Tohdoh has the inside line. This is not a two wide corner, but Kallen holds her line and turns in, and oh! They make contact! Unbelievable scenes, Kallen has shut the door on Tohdoh into Casino Square and taken a nose to the side for her troubles! I can't imagine either driver will be pleased with that, however Kallen remains ahead. Team radio…"

Indeed, as the pair descended towards Mirebeau, Tohdoh spoke again to his pit engineer, angrily complaining "She cut across me! Teammates, unbelievable. Absolutely ruining my race, being stuck behind her."

Diethard chuckled, and continued "... and yes, Tohdoh not pleased in the least, but Kallen is moving very defensively into Mirebeau, leaving no way through for the older driver. They pull around down towards Loews, and Tohdoh has a peek around the outside! Not quite enough room there, and Kallen gets a much better run out of the corner. Tohdoh was absolutely compromised by that wider, slower exit, but he's absolutely not giving up this fight for love nor money."

Indeed, he made up significant ground through Portier, and gave intense chase through the tunnel, the two engines, designed and built in Japan, roaring along, amplified by the echoing effects of the tunnel, to propel the two Japanese drivers down to the Nouvelle Chicane, a heavy braking zone which forced the driver left then right over killer kerbs. There was plenty of runoff area on the inside if someone messed up their braking, however such use had to be genuine.

Jeremiah took over commentating as they flew out of the tunnel and into the light of day, already excitable from what was a very odd Monaco Grand Prix.

"So Kallen is under pressure now from Tohdoh, he's darting around in her mirrors as they speed towards the braking zone, and he moves to the outside, which turns to the inside and oh! He cuts inside her, but he puts his car off circuit! He mounted the kerbs and used that space to move the Seiten up her inside at the apex of the chicane, and put all four wheels of the designated track. Brilliant move, but surely, he'll have to give the position back, because-"

"Hey, what the hell! He cut across the chicane, illegal move!"

"-and I think that's Kallen making my point there on team radio, he cut across the kerb and went onto the run off area, so I'd assume he'll have to give the position back. More team radio."

Tohdoh's microphone promptly crackled into life as his engineer told him "Okay Tohdoh, it's annoying but you'll have to give the position back to Kallen or the Stewards will give us a time penalty."

Tohdoh groaned in frustration as his chances of catching Suzaku in the dying laps faded before his eyes. He moved over to the outside of the track on the run up to Tabac, and seemed to shake his head.

"Presumably he's giving up the place, but… eh, that's really not the place on the track you want to be doing it." Diethard winced as Kallen caught up towards Tabac, but there was not enough room to pass, and so she filed back in behind the other Seiten.

"This race is all over the place, it's absolutely fantastic." Jeremiah laughed, as Tohdoh continued to slow to attempt to return the position. Diethard noted "He's definitely giving way, but that we've not got a lot of room on the way up to Swimming Pool, and now he has to take the corner, cutting Kallen off again. So frustrating."

"But I'll tell you who's absolutely delighted about this, it's Suzaku Kururugi. With Tohdoh slowing down, he can just romp away with this race, which is absolutely not what Tohdoh needs for his championship."

However, Diethard suddenly realised as he saw a streak of blue silently encroach upon the two purple Type 2 "Seitens" that there was in fact a third party who stood to profit from Rebellions bottling of team strategy even more than Kururugi.

"Oh my word, is that Lamperouge? It is! Lamperouge's Ganymede has caught right up to the back of this train, which only compounds Tohdoh's difficulty."

As Diethard said, the reduced pace of the battling Seitens allowed Lelouch to quietly insert himself back into the battle as the pair curtsied towards Rascasse, where Tohdoh finally realized that he was in deep, deep trouble, and held the inside line to avoid being caught up in the hell Lelouch was about to unleash on the pair of them.

Kallen was forced, by virtue of Tohdoh's sudden defensiveness, onto the dirty outside section of the circuit, which, alongside her already slowed pace behind Tohdoh, allowed Lelouch, who was not restrained by the need to eventually let Kallen past, to nip up her inside and steal the position, causing Jeremiah to roar with laughter.

"What tactics! Not only has he taken advantage of their squabbling, but Kallen must eventually get her place back or Tohdoh will incur a penalty. He's got two places in one pass, at Monaco! The Provençal driver must be absolutely over the moon with this, as he makes a run up the front straight to catch Tohdoh. DRS is enabled, he's catching into the braking zone, but- hold on, what?"

Jeremiah was, in a very out of character display, lost for words, as things took a turn for the bizarre. Lelouch, with more certainty, swept to Tohdoh's inside, and looked set to outbrake the Japanese driver, however out of nowhere Kallen, who was likely fuming at what had occurred, didn't brake at all, skipping over the kerb on the inside to complete the corner using all the run-off area on the inside between the track on the pit exit, nearly spearing into Lelouch as she returned onto the track.

Tohdoh, seeming Kallen whiz pass on what must have seemed like a rapid collision course with the outside wall, braked heavily ahead of the corner, losing out to both younger drivers as the commentating box was deathly silent, it's occupants utterly unable to digest what had just happened.

Jeremiah recovered first, scoffing "It's complete anarchy out here today! Every man for himself! Spread the word, wacky races has arrived in Monte Carlo!"

Diethard eventually laughed along, replying "Track limits? We're in a post-track limits society my friend. God is dead, everything is permitted!"

A good laugh was had at this joke, before Diethard could return to some vague semblance of serious analysis, commenting "Yes, it would seem that we just saw Kallen taking the law into her own hands there to some extent, and the logic isn't unsound; her teammate just did it on her and appeared to be getting away with it, but should it not be an issue for the Stewards? Should she get a penalty?"

Jeremiah, still in stitches, parsed together "Well, it did neutralize Tohdoh's gain, so it's a net nothing. I know two wrongs don't make a right, but I think the fair running has mostly been restored. It was a bit unconventional how they did it, a bit 'frontier justice', but I wouldn't meddle if I were the Stewards."

"So…" Diethard chuckled. "If the racing gods are so kind, then the order is as follows; Suzaku Kururugi leads comfortably, in clear air and without challenge. Next is the Lelouch Lamperouge, the local driver piloting that Ganymede to what would be Ashford-RT's highest finish since 2011. Completing the podium is Kallen Kōzuki, in spite of the teams wishes, a brilliant drive that will be overshadowed by controversy. Fourth is Tohdoh, fifth is Weinberg, and sixth is Cornelia McGlynn."

"What's gonna happen next?"

Unfortunately, not a great deal. Tohdoh made several more attempts to pass, but Kallen was able to block him off, and Zhou having her engine fail due to overheating, the rest of the race was Monaco in the more traditional sense; a bit of a procession. However, as the final lap rolled on, that certainly didn't diminish the accomplishment of the winning driver, or his enthusiasm for his achievement.

"And so this is Suzaku coming around the final corner for the last time. It's been only two weeks since his careers second win at his home race, and he's already gotten a third, because Suzaku Kururugi has won the Monaco Grand Prix! The excitement in pit lane-"

"Whooo! Nicely done everyone, you've all put in such hard work, thanks for delivering a fantastic weekend. P1! That's how it's done."

"-and that was Suzaku, over the moon with his victory, and deservedly so, and here comes the Motley crew of Lelouch Kallen and Tohdoh!"

Lelouch's team radio was dominated by ecstatic excitement, however Kallens, though less dramatic, was ultimately more interesting. Ohgi spoke first, commenting drily "Good drive. Not the result we wanted, but we'll talk more in the debrief."

"You didn't hire me to drive slowly." She replied with clearly veiled frustration

Diethard collected his papers, ready to head out to cover the podium, before asking his colleague "A closing thought, if you don't mind Gottwald."

"Of course."

"The person we have to thank for this, all of this, is Shinichiro Tamaki. Without Tamaki, none of this would have happened."

* * *

"What the hell did you think-"

"Shut up!"

Kallen, fully prepared to unleash all manner of fury onto Tohdoh as they finally found some privacy in the Rebellion meeting room, was preemptively silenced from behind by Taizo Kirihara, who shut the door as he entered, leaving the three of them to sort out their issues alone.

However Kallen, not one to be intimidated by such trivial things as being outnumbered or being in the presence of your employer, and so stayed on the offensive, continuing "What was the meaning of this crap? Telling me to take myself out of the running so Tohdoh here could score, what would it be, six extra points? I'm in this Championship just as much as he is!"

"Except you're not." Taizo responded. "Tohdoh has already proven himself with two titles, and he's our best chance of winning again against the Camelots. If that's ever going to happen, we have to maximize the points our best driver gets, while they split their points by competition with one another."

It all made sense; all those concerned frowns from Suzaku, Lelouch's comment of "You make your decision, the team will make theirs.", Taizo's reference to having to "have a word with Tohdoh" after the Japanese Grand Prix, and her brothers reference to Rebellions old fashioned way of thinking. She just hadn't been the victim of it yet, and so had not noticed that the team was built around one driver.

"And you've made that call this early in the season? Presumptuous, you couldn't even keep it on the road in Japan."

Tohdoh, who hadn't spoken yet, looked immensely apathetic, clearly not enjoying this argument. While he had been aggressive in the car, his notorious quietness was fully present, leaving Taizo to speak alone. It wasn't clear to what extent he agreed with Taizo, and how much he simply wanted to drive and be rid of the politicking, but Kallen was too angry to discriminate. However, Taizo was more than equipped enough to go to bat for his driver.

"And you did well for the team in that race, but your primary mission is to ensure Tohdoh has the best environment possible to win us a World Championship, just as his engineers, pit crew, and developers do."

Kallen paused, as the penny dropped. "Did Naoto make the same deal?"

Taizo smirked, before replying "He made it eagerly, with enthusiasm, and not an ounce of doubt, because he understood that our success, the teams success, was more important than any one of us. Moreover, he had a drive, something that not many are privileged with."

For once, Taizo was wrong, and it was interestingly telling; Kallen suspected he'd accepted to help her get a seat later, perhaps after Tohdoh retired, however it was a minor detail, as what really rankled was his reference to "the team." She shook her head, and replied "More important than any one of us, except your precious Tohdoh."

"You're going about losing your wage the right way, and I'm told you have some fairly hefty medical bills to pay."

The mood of the room suddenly shifted. Tohdoh's face shifted from uncaring to uncomfortable, clearly disliking the tack his boss was taking. However, Kallen was seeing red, absolutely livid with Taizo. He was now threatening Naoto, and this would not stand. She wanted to see him embarrassed, humiliated, ruined, or any combination thereof. To yell, to cause physical injury, no, these would not suffice. Fundamentally, Taizo was wrong, and she would prove it.

"I propose a bet."

She was making a mistake, almost certainly. It was too early, she didn't have the experience-

"Go on."

"If I finish ahead in the championship at the end of the year, then I'm the lead driver going into next year. No team orders, and I get a say in how we build the car."

This was her hand. There was not a riskier play, nor one that would grant victory quite so sweet, however it risked everything on the chance that she could be fast enough to beat the champion of the world, with the team at his back.

Taizo barked out a vicious laugh, understanding the stakes, and responded cruelly "Very well! And if you lose, then you do as we say, and without pay. You'll drive behind Tohdoh as a mobile buffer, score decent points, and maybe, just maybe, if you're lucky, when we find a new driver to stick in the number two seat, you'll find a team willing to hire the driver that spent three or four years playing second fiddle."

Kallen blinked. "Without pay?"

"Most people pay to drive in this sport. To be paid is a luxury you're on the precipice of losing. Or, alternatively, prove me wrong! Beat Tohdoh! Make our day!"

Kallen took in a deep breath. She steeled herself, and prepared the most vicious scowl that she could summon from the pits of her hate as she extended a hand laced with disgust.

"You're bloody well on."

* * *

 **Thus, we have our conflict for this first season. Certainly, Kallen has the talent to fight for Championships, but first she has to shake up her team, and for _that_ , she has to face up against Tohdoh. Will she succeed? Find out next week! Please rate and review, it really motivates me to write more!**

 **~Eth0**


	9. OK9 - Why We Fight

**OK9 - Why We Fight**

* * *

"What on Earth were you thinking? Do you realise what you're up against? What did you think-""

"That one of us in this family ought to have some damn self respect and that we should stand up for ourselves!"

Kallen, unable to exert her annoyance to its fullest extent over the 720p live video feed, decided to supplement her angry response with significant arm motions, stamping her fingers into her chest to emphasise her frustration as she spoke to her brother, 7 hours ahead of her on the other side of the globe. The video call was taking place within her personal trailer, isolated from the clutter of the paddock. The race had just ended, and Kallen had vented about what had just transpired to her brother, who had been within thirty seconds of falling asleep when Kallen called, barely able to even stay awake during the race. Given the race that was in it, that was quite something.

However, recounting the events of the previous twenty minutes had certainly seemed to rouse him, as he had protested with great vitriol, if little impact. That, as ever, did not stop him from trying his damnedest to share his vision of caution and responsibility.

"Why didn't you at least ask me before sticking your foot in your mouth? It would at least let me screen your most outrageous ideas. For the record, this "bet" would sure as hell have been screened from the word go. You're putting our finances at risk on a grudge!"

"Duly noted, but it's always much easier to request your forgiveness than your permission." Kallen replied, having calmed enough to replace rage with snark, however he only continued "Don't give me that crap, this is serious! Talking like that to Taizo, I can't believe you could be so silly. He's the man giving both of us our drives!"

Kallen rolled her eyes, and continued "When he's talking such nonsense it's hard to take it seriously. I mean, you heard the exact same lecture, you were told just as I was to let Tohdoh win, how can you-"

"Yes I heard it, and I understood that I had to accept my role in the short term because I have an ounce of perspective. Fairness doesn't come into it."

Stunned, Kallen paused before following that tangential line of thought with "On that topic, what the hell were you doing? Why did you take it? You were at least keeping pace, and if you challenged Tohdoh you could have easily kept him honest. Instead, you capitulated, but… why?"

"Kallen, that may be, but making enemies within the team would be pretty damn stupid of me when I'm in my first few years as already making money. I was paying for both of us, and unlike you, factored that into my decision making. Let them salivate over titles, I just wanted to make sure both of us had drives once they moved on. Fate rewards the patient."

Kallen snorted, absolutely scandalized by her brothers complicity. "Rubbish. I didn't get into this bloody sport to finish second! Nobody does! Why should I have to-"

"It's not all about you for fu-"

Naoto stopped himself on the precipice of the expletive, not only having better impulse control than his younger, but a far greater reluctance to be hurtful. Chastising, certainly, but his paternal instincts did not lend him what Kallen realized was a cruelty she possessed, a willingness to demean his choices that he would never have. As he took a breath to collect his own thoughts, the sudden quietness and calm sent realization flushing through Kallen, the first moment she had not either been running or roaring. She was being cruel to someone who had only thought about what benefited her, likely at his own expense.

After collecting himself, Naoto eventually sighed "Look, it's happened, and I'm livid at your irresponsibility, but I can't change it retroactively. What are you going to do now? That's what-"

"Naoto, I-"

Visibly regretting his lack of control, he interrupted to end the discussion with "You've made your choice, now we've got to work with what we have. The question going forward is how-"

"Naoto I'm sorry."

She had been berating him for his choices which she knew were made with her in mind, and were at the expense of his own career. For his decision to go with the system and keep their family in the black, she had hurled insults and even then he could barely bring himself to reciprocate.

"Do you think it was fun? Do you think I made the decision to not rock the boat because I thought I'd enjoy it more? I had to think about the bigger picture, and..."

This was a vulnerability that was not common in Naoto, who usually put on the same brave face she'd seen immediately after his injury. However, it was clear that while he stood by his decision, her brash critique made him feel like trash.

Which, in turn, made her feel like trash. He'd been selfless, and she had berated him for it. She shook her head, however he suddenly chuckled, as if back to his normal self.

"Still, I wouldn't have expected any less of you. You never did like to be told what to do. There's no use complaining about it now, unless you want to go back and beg for forgiveness."

They both had a good laugh at that. Kallen didn't know what the terms retreat or back down meant, and would follow through to the end on what she planned. Acknowledging this, Naoto continued "Thought not. In that case, we're going to need to get serious. Where are the next races?"

"Austria, Hungary, Britain then a two month break before Belgium." she explained.

"I should be able to start going out by Britain, but until that point, talk to Suzaku, and listen to what he has to say."

Kallen frowned. "The whole practice spiel?"

He nodded, and replied "Works wonders. Tohdoh is fast, but he doesn't put in the hours. Probably feels he doesn't need to, but you can make up so much ground. Use practice to make your weaknesses your strengths. For example, your lateral movement causes your tyres to get too hot, so see if you can learn to accelerate more progressively to compensate. We're going to need to outwork Tohdoh if we want to win, because of the head start he has."

"I see. If it works, then I'll do it."

Naoto frowned, and noted "Of course, this all depends on one thing. Can you actually beat Tohdoh head to head?"

"It'll be hard, he showed pace today, but it can be done. I'm getting quicker, and I was already keeping him honest. I just need a little luck."

"You're depending on luck?" Naoto replied, incredibly dubious.

This was strange as far as Kallen could tell. Luck always played a factor, whether it was an engine failing or a sudden puncture. It was rather typical of Naoto to avoid relying on such things, however Kallen had already thought this through, reassuring him with "I make my own luck."

As if on cue, her ace in the hole made its aural appearance, wandering into the trailer with an inquisitive tone some ways away, uncertainly asking "Kallen? Êtes-vous ici?" as its owner, Lelouch, proved that he at least had the ability to be punctual.

She grinned, before calling back "Speak of the devil, come on in!"

Naoto paused, before scowling "Is that that French scumbag? What the hell is he-"

Well aware of her brothers animosity towards the Gaul, she diplomatically tried to end the conversation before he had an aneurysm seeing Lelouch in his sisters trailer and drawing unfortunate conclusions, and interrupted with a hasty nod and a clamour of "Gotta go, seeya Naoto."

"Kallen, wait..." he asked, with slightly more care, such that she actually did, waiting to hear what he said in his sudden thoughtful tone, more genuine and concerned, though with more pregnability that unlike his usual paternal caution, had an ounce of personal fear that drew Kallens attention. He normally didn't let this show, except after his crash, which made it all the more relevant to Kallen.

He took a breath, and asked "Kallen, please don't make us have to take out loans. I don't want to go back there, so please, know what you're doing."

She softened, understanding his had gone through a period of extremely rough finances that Naoto was always incredibly eager to avoid repeating, which lent to his frugal approach when he was paying and piratical approach when he was not. Kallen reassured him with all the confidence she could project "Of course. We're not going back to that. We won't, I'm faster than him, and that's a promise. When we get to Brazil, we'll be top dogs."

He nodded, buoyed by her self assured vow, and replied tiredly "Thank you. Have a good evening. I'll pretend I didn't just hear who I just heard for the time being. Don't have too much fun now."

She nodded, chuckling at her brothers cheek as he cut the feed, leaving Kallen alone for a moment, sitting in her cramped couch. She felt a sudden relaxation in spite of the stakes, as there was some solidity to the confidence she had reassured Naoto with, and after the day that was in it, some relaxation was well due, particularly given the tasks she had ahead of her over the next six months.

However, there was one more person to meet.

"You can come in now Lelouch."

Finally allowed to move past the halfway house of the doorframe at the opposite end of the truck, Lelouch moved up the surprisingly steep steps into the dark trailer proper, seemingly impressed by what he saw. Kallen doubted that Ashford, for all its heritage, could quite afford this amount of space, or that Lelouch was not quite so spartan as to sacrifice comfort for any measurable advantage. Either way, Lelouch certainly took an interesting amount of time gazing at the ceiling and walls.

After a moment, he looked back towards Kallen and, seemingly confused, though it was hard to tell, asked "What is it you wanted? You were quite cross on the podium, especially given that it was your first."

The podium had been the most awkward thing in the entire universe, as the spotlight was somewhat stolen from him by Kallen and Tohdoh's spat. Kallen was furious, and Lelouch looked like a lost puppy up on the podium, not being entirely sure where to look. An interview with an increasingly exasperated Diethard Reid had done little to alleviate the situation, beyond a brief focus away to the joyous Suzaku, who really seemed to be the only person who was happy to be there, and the overdramatic Lelouch. Their broadcasted interaction covered the brief controversy the race generated, and was ultimately nothing more than an annoyance.

However, this misery was thankfully over, and they were isolated from the human equivalent of a wet tissue in Reid, so Kallen was ultimately more at ease as she invited Lelouch onto the couch opposite. Still unsure why he was here, he asked "So, you didn't say what you wanted."

"I'm calling in that favour from Japan." Kallen explained.

His eyebrow raised in a fascination, as he replied "Oh my, this is certainly intriguing. I would very much like to hear the context behind this request, if it's not too much trouble."

Kallen shrugged, feeling more than willing to bring Lelouch into the fold before explaining "Taizo began to pull team orders during the race, causing Tohdoh to try and plow past me and slowing us both down before he skipped the chicane."

"Aye, that makes sense. Certainly helped me. I was wondering why you were both so slow and fighting. Only hurting yourselves." Lelouch nodded.

"As Taizo was eager to make clear." Kallen sighed. "We had a row, and we made a bet as to who will be faster over the rest of the year. Your job from now until Brazil is to help me beat him in the championship standings. Four races in, I'm twenty one points behind him-"

"And nine points behind me." Lelouch interrupted, chuckling at his luck that had somehow propelled him into fifth in the championship, twenty six points behind Suzaku, whose sudden surge to the top was also more of a factor of his opposition within Camelot and Rebellion shooting themselves in the foot over the last two races, allowing him to steal a pair of victories.

"In my defence, I've only been in for half the season so far." Kallen joked. "Nonetheless, I've got three quarters of the season as a whole left to catch the both of you."

"Certainly. So with that confidence, what do you need me to actually do?"

Kallen stroked her chin, selecting her words with caution as she spoke "Two things. The latter will come later, but for now I have a few questions, particularly with regards to your performance. The Ashford car is absolutely uncompetitive, to put it mildly. Rivalz only scored his first points today, and you're consistently down in both lap times and speed traps. In spite of this, you've finished ahead of me in the last two races. How are you outperforming that Ashford?"

Lelouch frowned, and seemed to think it over with pursed lips. It was clear he wasn't eager to share his secrets, however it wasn't as if he hadn't made a promise. He eventually turned his head slightly away, making the angle his eyes formed to Kallen, before, with more hesitation than he had shown previously, beginning.

"Because I'm nice, I'll explain how I do things. Points are awarded to those who finish from first to tenth. With twenty people on the grid, that makes ten who will not get any points, whether they finish eleventh or last. With me so far?"

Kallen nodded. The points gap was well established, and had continued to screw over midfield teams who weren't quite good enough for consistent P10's by placing them among backmarkers in the championship standings since 2010. Seeing acknowledgement, Lelouch continued.

"Suppose someone goes through a season in an Ashford and take no risks. They finish eleventh every single race, and they finish the season on no points, because they weren't fast enough for the top ten and their strategy never differed from those who were faster than them. Then, let's suppose I took a risk every race. In 9 out of every ten races, it doesn't work and I finish last out of everyone, getting zero points, just like the guy in eleventh. However, in that tenth race, I pull it off, and finish in eighth, or ninth position. That puts me ahead, with one or two points, even though for nine out of ten times the other person finished ahead of me. That's how you have to think when you're at the back. Now that we're in the midfield, I've applied that thinking to turning a ninth or tenth into a third or fourth."

Kallen understood the principle to be classic game theory, however was confused by what he assumed she would get from it, asking "What does that mean for me?"

He frowned, before shaking his head and attempting to reframe what he was saying, admitting with some deflation "I don't actually enjoy grand prix racing. I don't get much out of it, at least not at this high a level or with this technical a car. I'm only here because it pays well. What I really enjoy is chess. I was always rather good at it, but it never turned out to be a viable career. What I'm talking about is relevant to you because of objectives. What is the goal in chess?"

"To take the King." Kallen replied.

Nodding, Lelouch pointed at her to emphasise the point and replied "Exactly. Not to take the most pieces or do the most damage, but to take one piece. Within the context of this sport, what is your goal?"

"Score as many points as possible."

He withdrew his hand, and sighed "No, not exactly. You need to finish ahead of Tohdoh. That isn't quite the same thing. I remember racing against Tamaki in my first year of GP3, and his team called him in on lap six for new Primes. I thought it was lunacy, but he was the person I had to beat, and so mirrored his strategy. He would have actually finished ahead of me had I not done it. You don't go with what you think is fastest, you only go with what clears the task at hand."

Kallen frowned, but nodded along, simply replying with "I see."

Lelouch let out a breath, before seeming to recall she had asked for two favours, and begrudgingly asking "So what else do you need?"

She frowned, and laced her fingers into a tent as she thought. This part of her plan was less straightforward , however she had to avail of of all the resources available to her "I'll have a word with my engineer, and you with yours. If I say, say, shift set one, then your engineer is to contact you and you are to hold up Tohdoh if he's near you?"

Lelouch smirked, slyly commenting "That's certainly a big ask for one favour over a shunt."

Kallen, paused, before acknowledging Lelouch was correct. "What do you want?"

"Tohdoh's going to be none too pleased if you beat him." Lelouch explained, gesticulating extensively. "I imagine he might take a sabbatical, or something to that effect. My contract runs out this year, and I hope you'd appreciate my help when they ask you who you want as a teammate."

Kallen nodded. It was a small price, and one that, given her growing pace ahead of Lelouch, she could deal with. "I can do that."

He nodded and stood, sensing matters were approaching their end, and indeed they were, as she felt like she wanted to fall asleep more than anything else. However, as he walked towards the exit, she realised she had one more question.

"Hang on a sec, one more thing." she called out, leaning back over the chair and asking over her shoulder "Why does my brother hate you?"

Lelouch finally smiled fully, with much less guarding, and chuckled "Heh, there's a very good reason. Three years ago, we were both in Brazil for the GP3 championship finale, and we were both in the title fight."

Kallen blinked, and asked "And?"

"I punted us both out on lap one. We were both out of the race. He didn't take it well."

With that, he turned and waved as he left, back turned away.

* * *

 **Lelouch, you cheeky Occitan, that isn't the whole story now is it? We'll have to see if there was more too that, but nevertheless, we learned a lot this chapter. Cooling off some of the racing, we saw Naoto's patience tested and Kallens motivations highlighted, however now both of them are going to take the fight to Taizo in the future, with Lelouch fishing for a promotion, Kuki Urie style. More power to him, but there's more to it that that, as I chatted about with OneSpiker.**

 **See you next week. In the meantime, please review and let me know how you're finding the story, as it really gets my spirits up as I write!**

 **~Eth0**


	10. OK10 - Don't Lose Your Way

**OK Number 10! - Don't Lose Your Way**

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That twenty one point deficit to Tohdoh was closed by Kallen to eighteen in Austria, where Kallen had retained her third place in Qualifying even in the wake of considerable pressure from Tohdoh in the second phase of the race, taking her second podium in a session plagued by light rain. In spite of it being a solid drive, neither Rebellion driver had an answer for the blistering pace of the Camelots, who headed up the podium, with Cornelia taking the win by four seconds from pole, restoring the regular order of things after two poor races for the British marque. Interestingly, Lelouch was the last of the finishers, having switched onto dry Prime tyres to jump ahead into the points in the vain hopes that the rain would dissipate, in what Kallen considered the downside of his doctrine.

Hungary closed this gap by another three points, however due to Gino suffering a rather spectacular engine failure on the main straight, both Kallen and Tohdoh made it onto the podium in second and third respectively, both over ten seconds behind Cornelia, who had by now retaken the lead of the championship from Suzaku, who had finished fifth in both races in what was a return to the status quo, which absolutely thrilled Rakshata Chawla.

The European leg of the season continued into the United Kingdom two weeks later, home turf of many drivers and teams alike, with Silverstone, the circuit buried out in Northamptonshire on the site of a retired Royal Air Force base, being the test bed for many of the cars that currently raced, such as the Camelots Sutherlands, or the Lancers Glastons. Throughout Free Practice, Cornelia and Gino had traded the top slot on the timesheets, and had locked out the first two positions in Qualifying sessions One and Two. As the team prepared for Q3, hopes of starting on the front row were slim. However, not all was quite so fatalistic or dire.

"Great job!"

Naoto, wrapped up in casts and balanced up against the wall for a momentary reprieve from his metal crutch, waved across the garage to his sister now that he was finally out of the hospital, with a peaceable smile as she climbed out of the cockpit of the Type 2 Seiten, removing her scarlet helmet, HANS and all, and sighed.

"Still behind Tohdoh in that session." she rued, shaking her head as she moved towards the laptop on the desk to the left of the car. "One minute twenty seven point four, two tenths ahead of me. Damnit."

"Hey, still early days. After all, none of those laps will matter, it's only the laps in this session that count towards your grid slot."

"It's indicative." she replied shortly. "Long and short of it is that he's been putting in good lap times all weekend, and I need to see why." She tapped on the keyboard of the team computer as Naoto, not mobile enough to lean over to look, could only listen while she examined the delta as she watched back Tohdoh's lap. Noting that his lap was immediately green relative to her, she observed "He's gotten a better run off of Club, more speed onto the front straight."

Watching the relative times, it did seem as he approached Abbey that he had more speed, however it was interesting how this affected him, as he was forced to lift off the throttle on his way into the seventy degree corner, more so than the slower Kallen had done, bringing their delta's back into line. This was likely impacted by Kallen's downforce setup, which she had heard from one of the mechanics helping her was a little higher than what Tohdoh liked to run. She would gain time through Maggots, Becketts and Chapel, and lose time on the main straight. However, this didn't explain the two tenths deficit in lap time as the video replay of Tohdoh swapped across to Farm, his arms swapping from fully one way to another in a swift action, dragging the car onto the inside kerb on the limits of grip, with speed and steering angle perfectly measured. With his wheel lined up immediately as the car skated out of the high speed sweeper, it was a short run up to the right-left chicane at the Arena section. He decelerated very late, seeming to rotate the car under braking, placing both right wheels over the kerb and beginning to pivot out very early towards the Loop, allowing for a rapid exit at the expense of a slower entry.

Kallen looked at the Deltas, and saw that, surprisingly, he was two tenths ahead. Village and Loop was the slowest section of track on the circuit, and the slightest motions there were amplified due to the slow speed, however it was still strange that he had such an edge. Comparing to her own video, she saw herself experience a lot more understeer under braking, running wide on the exit of Village and compromising her approach onto Loop.

She shook her head, resolving to sort out that corner on her next run out as the tannoy speaker called out the beginning of Q3. She had ten minutes as of that moment, and refused to waste a single moment of it. She called out that she was going for a run, and wanted to be fuelled up as soon as possible. Naoto, still leaned against the wall, echoed this request for the benefit of the pit crew as Kallen moved to restore her balaclava. He took a breath through the fabric, before breathing out, and in, and out, clearing her head. She saw the corner rush up in her minds eye, and moved her toes, using her ankle as a pivot, down slowly, increasing the pressure on the fictional brake progressively, allowing the cylinders to slowly squeeze down on the brake discs and decelerate the car in a smooth, controlled manner. She felt the pedal tighten and shake as she sensed the shift in tarmacadam where it had been resurfaced in 1996, taking it as her marker to turn in. The rubber bit in more firmly here, and she again sensed the infetismal stiffening of the handling, before a vast shaking reached her biceps and shoulders, indicating she had crossed onto the kerbs and had the clearance to mash the throttle towards Loop.

She shook slightly, letting out another breath as the car was fettled by the engineers next to her. A slight mist escaped her lips as she allowed her uncertainty to fly into the air, indicating the typically British cold. There were millions of factors going in to one lap time. Brand new soft Option tyres, which would do one lap before never being touched again, two point eight kilograms of fuel ready to be obliterated in the name of high tech one upmanship, and so on and so forth. She slotted her HANS device in behind her neck, before placing the helmet on, completing her seal.

It was immensely interesting how much certain touchstones impacted ones performance. Naoto often mentioned how feeling his steering wheel between his hands, moulded to fit his fingers to the millimeter, always seemed to suddenly zone him into the task at hand. For Kallen, it was her helmet, which was the lens by which she used to managing, tackling, wrestling the controls of the car. It was cognitive association, and sharpened her focus on the central point in the distance.

Stepping over the B-pillar, she fell into the bowels of the car, surrounded by its high cheekbones. She was ready. She breathed faster. She was ready to bloody kill this lap time-

She shook her head. No, she had specific tasks. She needed to nail the corner, and that required focus, precision. Not passionate anger. She strapped herself in at the belly, the five point harnesses holding her torso rigidly in place. She placed her hands at the control, deciding to roll back the brake bias to induce more turn in under braking with one of the many dials littering the tiny, rectangular wheel before she finally heard the all clear from Ohgi.

Flicking on the pit limiter, she rolled the car out into pit lane, following the narrow track up to the outside of Farm. With cold tyres and limited fuel, only enough for one flying lap, she didn't push on the entry to the critical corner, only tentatively sniffing at the apex, as if to scour at its scent and examine it, before the first full speed run when she came back around.

It was a delicate business, warming the tyres with fast swipes at the steering wheel, hard braking events to warm the calipers, all while fettling the engine's fuel mixture so that the Seiten could deliver blistering, unparalleled pace for about two minutes before it overheated its wheels.

Towards the end of the out lap, the temperatures began to stabilize, as Kallen built up mental momentum for the lap ahead. She took a slow entry into Vale, winding the car up through Club, accelerating, accelerating, just winding it up like a spring, so she could rocket the car on exit, smashing the throttle, allowing the rear wheels to transport her forwards with the acceleration of a fighter jet.

She crossed the line. The lap began.

Slight lift into Abbey, a slight dip of the inside wheels onto the kerb to pull her around the corner. She felt the lateral forces on her neck, bobbling her exposed head about as the car switched direction at some three hundred kilometers per hour. Switching lanes for Farm, she hugged the inside of the long sweeper like it was a family member, as Village approached.

She breathed in. She needed to get this right, so she took a chance to focus. She needed to turn in early, perhaps even under braking, using the front suspension to pivot the car. She examined her sight lines, inspected the brake bias, and prepared her biceps to hurl the car into the corner. She breathed out. She envisioned the motion ahead of her, with stern preparation and cold dispassion, so she could carefully pick out the best line consciously.

Taking in another breath, she leaned into the corner, carefully checking her lines. Holding it in tight, she suddenly felt the rear beginning to give way. Fighting her instincts, she followed the geometrically correct line, however suddenly she felt the rear end begin to slide out, and before she could apply opposite lock, the car swapped ends, as she spun out onto the grassy run off area.

What she said next was emphatically not safe for work, however once she had finished a profuse and emotionally charged volley of swears, she roared into the radio "Aborting lap, coming back in. Damnit..."

She continued in much the same vein as she spun the car back around, livid. Not needing to complete a flying run, she blazed her way back into the pits on the same lap, as there was no way she could claw back the ten seconds she had lost in the spin. Better to hurry back to the pit lane to lick her wounds before taking another run.

She returned swiftly, parking her roasting Seiten into the Rebellion garage before bursting out of it, shaking herself as if her anger might join the slight particulate matter in hopping off. It did not, and she could only shake her head as she ripped off her helmet.

"Bloody hell, bloody hell..." she muttered, as the engineers stood around the car in a sort of limbo, unwilling to go at the car without prompt, particularly in light of Kallen's anger. She shook her head, before replying "Fill her up, I'll see if we can give it another run."

She sighed as the engineers moved to restore the car to Qualifying spec. She could certainly take the corner without spinning, but she would qualify behind Tohdoh on one of his favourite tracks on the calendar unless she could nail that corner. She had to brake, and follow the line that she had planned. It was academic, and yet as soon as she thought about it in that capacity, it all melted away as she became overloaded.

Chugging a bottle of water, she watched over the clip of her spin. It was clear that she hesitated under braking, seeming to have to think about the line, before committing to it half heartedly and having more speed at the apex than the car was ready for. How in the hell was she supposed to beat him when she couldn't even think her way through a corner?

"I swear-" she began, before Naoto called her aside to have a word. Begrudgingly, she walked over, expecting some manner of aloof, sarcastic comments which, while normally welcomed in good humour, she was not in the mood for. She moved across, and asked "What is it?"

He took a moment to prop himself up onto a desk, relieving him of the need for his crutches, strapped to his cast, for just a moment, before he chuckled, and spoke.

"You're really in a huff over this aren't you?"

She frowned, and replied "Just a slight bit jackass, if he gets track position on this track it's over!"

"I recall you saying you were faster than him though, that the great Kallen Kōzuki drove better than Tohdoh?"

She frowned, and replied "Of course."

"Then why aren't you driving like Kallen Kōzuki?"

She stopped, and made a face. She didn't understand what he meant, before he raised his bandaged arms defensively and replied "Hold on now, hold on. Have a look at your styles. You held the 'ideal' line religiously, thinking your way through it. Suzaku does it that way, and fair credit to him, he does well for himself. However, the sum of all humans who can think fast enough to do that is limited to him. You're trying to do geometry and drive at the same time, and you're overthinking it and getting muddled. You didn't get as far as you have like that, and that's why it's jarring."

"So what do you propose I do?" she asked, rather nonplussed.

"Don't think about it." he replied. "Just focus on the lap as you do it, and leave the rest be. All that context, that detail, is probably more distracting than anything else. Just do what you're good at; go really bloody fast. Don't even think about Tohdoh, just focus on the inch of track in front of you, then the next and so on."

Kallen chewed on this. Perhaps he was right. She had spent the whole lap trying to separate herself from the road, to view it clinically to try and compensate for her lack of precision over one corner when her speed came from the exact opposite, from immersing herself into the grains of the tarmac and funnelling her passion into the wheel and through the axles.

She took in a deep breath, sucking in the air to enrich the blood which was now firmly pumping through her veins, allowing it to take hold. She was going to demolish that lap time.

Turning around, she saw a small crew assembled looking on at the conflab between Naoto and her, seeming ready to go. She took a moment, and built up a resolve, before smirking and standing tall.

"Let's go get him."

This was met by a chorus of emphatic enthusiasm by the surrounding engineers, which certainly enthused Kallen. At first, she had been concerned that in light of how antagonistic she had been towards Taizo the pit crew might be reluctant or uncertain, however Naoto, who knew them all well, had apparently spoken with many of the ones who were no fans of Tohdoh and his more dismissive attitude and corralled them.

She would fight for them, and their faith in her. Fight, yes, that was the right word, she felt.

Drunk on oxygen, she pulled her helmet on, and once again sunk into the car, this time consciously making herself a part of it. The wheels were and extension of her hands, the axles, her legs.

"Ready to go Kallen." Ohgi alerted, before adding "Rip him to shreds out there."

Delivering a nod in reply, Kallen released the clutch, operated by her ring finger, to slide the car out and onto pitlane. She took in the sensations of the track, while not thinking about any of it. She glided through the Loop, slithering about the track to both warm the tyres and ingratiate herself with the ground below her. She felt it in her feet, now melded with the pedals and extending down to the degrading rubber. She felt flakes of the soles of her feet peel off against the tarmac and skating off into the grass as she swung out of the final part of the Arena section and down towards Brooklands.

"Kallen, be advised, Tohdoh has just completed his final flying lap, one minute twenty seven point four. That's your target."

Kallen by now hadn't the faintest idea what Tohdoh's original time was, or what this new one meant for her, but, as she braked into Stowe, nursing some temperature into the tyres with a cadence movement on and off the pedal, she replied "Don't speak until I've completed the flying run, I'm almost at the start line."

Indeed, now it was the time to focus. Vale was her last chance to heat the brakes, and while she had not yet begun the lap itself, everything up to the line was acceleration, and-

She shook her head again. Don't think about it, just squeeze the car into the apex at turn sixteen, and rocket away. She planted the throttle some ways into the lithosphere and held on as the car began to wind itself up around the entry to Club, a long, right hander. She felt the tyres begin to struggle to hold onto the inside line with the lateral forces which now began to push against her neck, however she held the wheel in place with a genuine exertion from the arms, literally keeping the car in place with her own input. Holding the line, she eventually released the wheel on the exit to allow the energy of the car to strike forwards, shifting all the way to the outer limits of the track, as she crossed the line to begin her flying lap.

The car flew past the expectant engineers standing at the end of the pit wall, before Kallen hurled the car into Abbey with reckless abandon. She felt her stomach lurch as she clipped the kerb aggressively and managed to keep it within the track lines without lifting off, meaning that she carried all the speed into the corner that had proved so challenging all day.

She broke aggressively, shaking the car slightly to wiggle it into place as she felt was right, before hurling it into Village with a vigorous and emotive twist of the wheel, fuelled by a determination. Not waiting for the confirmation from her line of sight that she had made the corner, she trusted in the slight shaking of the throttle pedal that she had sufficiently rotated the car, and immediately switched her hands round, swivelling the wheel from right hand down to left hand down in an instantaneous flick, hurtling the car towards the end of the Loop and accelerating out towards the Wellington straight. She was through.

The car, willed on by half a garage, shot forwards into Brooklands, another heavy braking zone, where Kallen speared into the corner with an aggressive line, hinging the car on the apex and allowing a swift pivot towards Luffield, a long right hander similar to Club. The line was nothing if not bellicose, and ate at tyres like nothing else, however she was only doing one lap.

Kallen had a gentler approach to Luffield, mandated by the importance of a smooth exit, however smooth did not mean slow, as even at this curving section of track, Kallen kept her throttle applied, allowing some slip at the rear to save the front tyres from the hell of a wide radius corner. As soon as she felt traction return at the exit of the corner, she launched the car forward, using all the power the six cylinder engine, augmented by electric generators, could deliver over about twelve seconds, filled with noise, drama, thunder, and acceleration exceeding that of an aeroplane.

This acceleration was interrupted through Copse, where even Kallen in all her determination lifted slightly as she crested her right tyres over the apex, before the daunting Maggots, Becketts and Chapel complex, for which complex was a very applicable term.

Kallen braced herself, tensing up her muscles to resist the force that her aggressive pursuit of time would have on her arms, as she catapulted the car into the fast, yet winding ess section, staying flat out through Maggots, dropping a gear and a few miles per hour through Becketts, before picking them both back up again on the approach to Chapel, launching the car off the exit of the corner to spear it as far to the right as she could. The shallower her change of direction, the more speed was retained, and she had retained a lot of speed as the car careered down the Hangar straight, reaching two hundred miles per hour with DRS deployed before Stowe corner began to rush up.

Treating Stowe and Vale as two parts of a chicane, she decelerated at the last moment before springboarding off the apex of the latter onto the keerb of the former, leaping across the track like a rabbit, seemingly unencumbered by the seven hundred kilograms of carbon, aluminium, and flesh.

Having saved her front tyres earlier, she now unloaded the entire mass of the car onto them, braking using all her might into the second to last corner, taking a shallow line and only turning in fully at the slowest point in the corner. Now, it was just acceleration all the way to the finish line.

She gritted her teeth, as she felt the tyres at the ends of her legs begin to struggle as she dragged the car kicking and screaming through Club corner, fighting the understeer the long corner presented, holding in the throttle. It seemed to take forever, it seemed to drag on, but she would drag it forwards, she would force it over the line if need be, and she was there! The corner finally ended, and the line presented itself. Kallen welcomed it with a healthy squirt of the throttle, seeing her over the line at some one hundred and fifty five miles per hour.

Kallen finally breathed. It was over, the rope was cut. Nothing more could have been done. If she was below Tohdoh, then there was nothing she could-

"Holy shit! Kallen, wow!"

Kallens brief euphoria was interrupted by the sudden eruption of her radio, as Ohgi cheered "You did it! One twenty six point nine! Five tenths of a second faster! Ahaahaha! Well done, well done, that's P3 behind the two Camelots, lining up Cornelia and Gino. Well done!"

* * *

 **Don't lose your way! In your mind! We have to be as one, Don't be afraid, my sweet heart; This is the way to be more strong!**

 **Mark that down as another song I'll never get out of my head, but it's mightily applicable. It may as well be Kallen's theme at this point, and it certainly served as an aural mood board for the latter section of this chapter.**

 **Join us next time for the British Grand Prix. Stay safe, and please review!**

 **~Eth0**


	11. OK11 - Dance Like You Want To Win

**OK Number 11! - Dance Like You Want To Win**

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While Kallen was tickled pink over being third on the grid, Tohdoh was not amused at being relegated to fourth, and made no secret of it in the intervening day between qualifying and the race. Even as they sat on the grid, waiting for the five red lights hanging off the marshalls gurney to ignite the two hours of mayhem that awaited them, Kallen liked to think that she could feel his annoyance wax up her back from behind like a wave.

The strategy going into the race was complicated by the prospect of rain in the final third, however up until that point it seemed a simple transition from Options to Primes, staying on those harder tyres until the weather came.

Kallen heard a sudden swell of engine notes, before noticing the red lights beginning their countdown. One by one, they lit up, before finally switching off at the exact same moment, beginning the race. Sliding out the clutch to minimise wheelspin, Kallen got a fair start, not gaining much ground on the Camelots ahead but not losing much to Tohdoh behind as they approached turn one. From a standing start, the corner was easily flat, however as Kallen moved to turn into the corner, she spotted a flash of blue coming up her inside, the Lancer of Luciano Bradley who appeared to have gotten a monsterous start, already having dispatched with Tohdoh and now seeming to be having a look up the inside of the first turn.

Not wanting to get punted, Kallen left a gap on the inside in case Luciano did anything silly, taking a slower, outside line to the corner, which the ginger Briton exploited with a lunge to her inside, which turned to the outside as the track moved to the left through Farm. Kallen kept one eye in the mirrors as they approached the first slow corner at Village, watching Luciano file in behind her. Braking at the hundred meter board for caution, she decelerated into the corner, ready to smoothly transition at the apex before feeling a significant shunt from behind.

Immediately, the car pulled hard to the right, forcing her to fully apply the wheel to one hundred and eighty degrees to restore balance. As she trundled back onto the track, cars now whizzing past, the problem persisted, as she was almost unable to turn left. Trying not to swear again on the radio, she sighed "Oh for… damnit, I think I've got a puncture! Right rear, someone's after hitting me in the right rear!"

She shook her head, as she hauled the car back to the pit lane, with almost three quarters of the lap to do on three tyres and next to no speed. She could feel the time ooze away from her, as the pack zoomed away at full chat. By the time she made it back, slotting the car into her pit box for the engineers to replace the tyres, Cornelia was already completing her second lap, and once the team was finished she reentered the pack a lap down and in the midfield to boot. This was a disaster.

She had her work cut out for her to get points, let alone beat Tohdoh. The only advantage she had was a set of Hard compound tyres, even more resilient than regular Primes, that would last from lap one until the rain period, allowing her to push without having to worry about another pitstop halfway through the dry stint. She put the incident, which reportedly was caused by Luciano's front wing swashing wide and slashing up her tyre, behind her, and set about putting herself back in the race with consistent, quick lap times.

Priority number one was finding some clear air, away from the traffic so she could set about her return to the lead lap. She had to get ahead now, or else she would be blue flagged and placed even further behind. The marshalls couldn't be allowed to think she was holding the others up, and so she had to build a gap. In her mirrors, she saw Lelouch, who was in ninth place, sniffing up her inside, making the crisis more immediate. Flipping her engine to use a richer mix of oxygen and fuel, she tried to burn as much petrol as possible to escape the clutches of the marshalls.

Fortunately, the Ashford lacked any degree of straight line speed, and so she was able to continue with her own race. It seemed unlikely she would encounter anyone else, or even know where she would eventually wind up finishing after the race settled down, until near the end. What was needed now was pace, and a bit of luck.

The former was quick in coming, as while the orange-walled Hard tyres were by no means fast, them being fresh and durable meant Kallen could put the hammer down, zoning into the circuit to simply pound away at the lap times. While her tyres' grip left much to be desired, the clear track in that gap between Xingke and Lelouch allowed her to simply drive the car, without having to battle other drivers and lose time. She was in a race of her own, and simply had to do laps of the track alone, and wait for it to pay dividends.

Initially, progress was slow, as she was able to regain time on the backmarkers, and rejoin the lead lap. Now, rather than being over a lap behind, she was simply really far behind within the same lap of track, and her tyres had not significantly degraded. Her lap times stayed at around a one minute thirty two seconds, which was fairly competitive for the tyre she was on. However, it was unlikely to prove sufficient to catch up to the backmarkers and climb her way through the pack.

Fortunately, luck was on her side, and not on the side of Shinichiro Tamaki, who she was just beginning to catch sight of, the follow Japanese driver in second to last place, before he had a moment in the braking zone into Stowe, wobbling as his rear tyres were suddenly relieved of significant pressure. He seemed to recover it as he pushed the car towards the outside kerb on exit, however he had been unable to slow enough in his shimmy, and skewed out onto the grass beyond the track limits, which was where things really started to go wrong.

Rather than backing off the throttle to regain grip, Tamaki, in his infinite wisdom, elected to keep his throttle welded to the floor, sending the car skating across the grass, before it span back across the tarmac and into the wall at the far side. As far as Kallen could see from about a hundred meters behind, it was a race ending incident, with his front left tyre breaking off on impact. She could almost hear his cries of "Damnit!" or "Why is it always me?" as she coolly cruised past. While it was satisfying to no longer be last, this event took on a new relevance when her steering wheel flashed yellow.

"The Safety Car is out, the Safety car is out. Watch your delta times, slow down and catch the pack."

The Safety Car was indeed out, which could really save Kallen's bacon in this race. Immediately, she announced to her pit crew that she planned to box for Option tyres to run until the rain came, and moved to enter the pit lane. Not only would she get a fresh set of tyres to push on, but behind the Safety Car all the cars would amass at slow speed, allowing Kallen to catch up to the back of the grid. Granted, most everyone would likely take the opportunity to pit, but if all Marianne Zi Britannia did by holding up the grid was equalise it, it was a bargain Kallen would be enthusiastic to take.

One smooth extraction and replacement of the Hard tyres later, Kallen rejoined the track again, and proceeded to catch up with the other cars, who were now slowed up so as not to endanger the marshalls attending to Tamaki's wreck. They took three laps to complete their work, with Marianne signalling to race control on lap eighteen of fifty two that she was returning to the pits and that the racing would resume. At this point, Kallen was last of nineteen runners, but all nineteen were condensed to a small area of track. All she had to do was overtake, and quickly.

Fortunately, that was something Kallen had a fair amount of prowess in.

Her charge began as the green flags permitted the drivers to resume racing. She bit into her new tyres at Brooklands to pull off a well managed dive up the inside of a backmarker, wrenching at the wheel to hold the line before finally turning in. Using the superior grip that the second best car on circuit delivered, she then crept up on the next backmarker through the long, grueling right gander at Luffield, springboarding off the exit to sweep up her mark at the entry to Copse. There was an immense moment where she placed the car on the inside of the fast kink, and for a moment they were side by side, with only Kallens bravery keeping the car in that incredibly precarious position, where the slightest twitch could send both cars into a collision course.

However, the driver on her outside yielded, and for her efforts Kallen was awarded seventeenth place. Picking up two more positions under braking as they lost time squabbling with one another, Kallen ended the lap in fifteenth.

"Rain appears to be coming in fifteen minutes, fifteen. Your tyres should make it to that point with pushing."

Ohgi's information, delivered with deliberate clarity, gave Kallen all the license she needed to continue her push through the field. Using all the grip provided by the fresh Softs, Kallen hurtled through the grid. As she reached the upper echelons, just below the top ten, she began to encounter drivers she was more familiar with, such as Lelouch, whose one stop had not paid off and who was now languishing in thirteenth with very little grip, and the two Chinese Geely drivers whose low downforce setup was not agreeing with the circuit.

However, the cars ahead of her as she climbed through the field were increasingly fast, and increasingly spread apart, and the pace of her progress began to slow, even as she saw the first droplets of rain begin to settle on the lid of her helmet.

Deciding to play it safe until the rain became dense enough for Intermediate Wet tyres, Kallen eventually pitted on lap thirty, seeing Suzaku make his pitstop just up the road and deciding to mirror his strategy. Her second pit stop of the day was both swift and uneventful, with her yellow-walled Option tyres being replaced by green-walled Intermediate tyres. Wet tyres came in two flavours; these green Intermediates, which were for moist or damp conditions such as at the Japanese Grand Prix, where Kallen and Lelouch had profited from starting on them, and full Wet tyres, indicated by blue markings on the sidewall, which were for heavy rain. Pushing on the fresh rubber as she exited the pit lane, Kallen felt the rears slide slightly as she returned to the track, still quite dry, however after she pulled some heat into them, she was back to the task at hand; climbing up the grid.

However, as there were less and less overtakes to make, each one proved more challenging. Suzaku, who had beckoned her pit stop, had genuine pace on the Intermediate tyre, and even as she approached, she doubted it would be easy to overtake the Rosenberg as they approached Abbey, Kallen filed in behind the light spray of Suzaku, which cleared a methodical path for her to follow. It was still drier than the tyres ideal operating window, and yet too wet for dries, and so most drivers were busy trying to balance grip and heat. Driving in Suzaku's wake, with the water being actively scooped up off the road in front of her, was beginning to cause significant issues for Kallen as her tyres continued to heat in the presence of the dried track. She was even forced to weave out to the right under braking on the way into Vale as she locked up the brakes and proceeded to plough on in spite of Kallen's efforts. As Kallen wrestled the car back under control, she swang the car back around, moving off line away from the apex, where no one else had been driving.

It was perfectly understandable why no one drove off line; it was geometrically slower, required more braking, and was a longer route by meters. However, as she moved off the line to avoid ploughing into the back of Suzaku, she suddenly felt the grip return, and her tyres begin to cool. Puzzled, she returned to the line behind Suzaku. Initially, the grip was retained, however it quickly returned to the dire status quo, where her tyres began to boil in their casings.

It took Kallen until they reached Abbey on the next lap, where she attempted a move on Suzaku's outside and found an unusual amount of traction, communicated in the rigid pull on her hands as she wrenched the wheel to the right, to work out what was happening. Suzaku was acting as a rainplough, literally clearing the track of water as he drove, making the racing line more dry, and thus making it less grippy for Intermediate tyres, which required some surface water to function properly. For now, the faster line was in fact the line that had the most standing water, which was the line that was least driven.

To win, she had to drive like an idiot.

She took some satisfaction in shocking Suzaku on the approach to Brooklands, where after pulling out of his slipstream, she was able to match him under braking driving on the dirty side of the circuit. Switching back as the corner extended, she had the grip to stay with Suzaku on the outside, driving parallel to him as they moved towards Luffield. Suzaku, now on her inside relative to the apex, had the shorter run, but Kallen, on the wetter section of tarmac, had the grip to keep up her wider arc without falling behind, keeping stuck to his side like a glue.

Grinning, she gunned the throttle as her outside wheels crested the rumble strip lining the outside boundaries of the circuit. Suzaku, who could not use the full width of the track on exit without hitting Kallen, was now compromised under acceleration, allowing Kallen to pull ahead into Maggots and Becketts, completing the move into Chapel when Suzaku was forced to back off the throttle or else career off into the grass as Kallen held her line.

Seventh was hers. She was pleased to get past Suzaku, who remained a significant threat in spite of his marginally inferior machinery. His practice made him a master of careful delicacy, with a deliberate mastery over his vehicle. Not to mention that he was fast, perhaps even faster than her if all other factors were removed. However, these ingrained processes made it hard for him to adapt, and so he had no response when he saw something he wasn't used to.

Of course, inferentially, this meant very little; Suzaku would undoubtedly learn from today and arrive at Belgium with a full capacity to combat this harebrained tactic. However, for now, she had taken the position, and she had lots of lead track ahead before she would encounter Odysseus, ahead of his fellow Rosenberg driver for the first time this season. As she put in more and more laps, the track continued to get wetter, the rain continuing to slowly soak the track.

By lap thirty five, it was clear that the rain was here to stay, if not grow in intensity. However, even as Kallen put in good lap times, she came to realize that she was running out of time to reach the upper echelons of the grid. The Lancers had bolted away since the Safety Car, and there seemed little hope of bridging the gap.

Hoping for some potential way of gaining time through strategy, as there was still a possibility that the Intermediate tyres would not last to the end of the race, she asked Ohgi what was happening with the weather.

"It appears as if we may transition to heavy rain quite soon, the rain looks set to intensify."

This seemed to match with Kallens observations, as she noticed the levels of standing water continuing to increase. As the laps pounded away, the water began to approach the workable limits of the tyre. Fortunately, Kallen had a good head for wet conditions, which served her well as they approached the forty lap mark.

Unfortunately, it seemed Gino Weinberg would not see forty laps, as Kallen passed by his car on the run off area on the exit of Stowe, stranded and still, though without visible damage, parked off by the side of the road.

Curious, Kallen inquired further, learning that the unlucky Briton had suffered a second engine failure in two races before a second Safety Car was announced so that Weinberg's Camelot could be retrieved from the awkward spot in the run off area.

As Kallen slowed the car down to match the delta, she realized she now faced a decision. This was a golden opportunity to pit onto the full Wet tyre and have the advantage of the grippier rubber going into the final stint. It was a gamble that if lost could take her out of the points entirely, however she was sorely tempted by the opportunity to have the pace to catch Tohdoh once the Safety Car ended.

"I think we should pit for Wets, we can gain-"

"Negative, negative." Ohgi quickly responded as Kallen crawled around copse. "We need to cover off Suzaku and protect sixth, and hold this position to the end."

Kallen briefly considered this line of logic, before rejecting it. Even if playing it safe gave a better chance of points, it gave a lower chance of achieving the overall goal of beating Tohdoh. Sixth! A guaranteed sixth, or a slim chance for a win. Kallen knew which she wanted.

"I did not come to this race to finish sixth!"

"But-"

"I'm coming in for Wet tyres now, whether you give them to me or not is up to you."

After shouting her instructions down the radio, she pulled off into the pits before Club, driving into her box and having her green tyres replaced by a set of blues. She could almost perceive her crews reluctance in their uncertain movements, dubious as to the rationale behind this strategy. Undeterred, Kallen rejoined the pack in tenth as they formed up behind the Safety Car, as the only car on Wets.

She wanted to win this race, and this potential advantage was her only chance of doing so. She had the pace, so she aimed high. It all depended on the British weather, which was not something you traditionally wanted to be putting faith in.

Marianne released them ten laps from the end, cutting off the blinking lights on her roof to tell to pack to prepare to return to racing speed. As they all formed up to resume racing, Kallen peered up, praying for the clouds to have darkened, however results were ambiguous. As the Safety Car peeled off at Club, Kallen stamped on the throttle once the green flags waved to test the grip and did not find it wanting, having good purchase in second gear. However, the busy pack ahead was slow, as she realised that they were now pitting for Wets, as they realised too late that conditions were changing, and were forced to pit at the worst time; the pack was moving at regular speed, and was all bunched up; they would lose so much ground.

Kallen cackled from within her cockpit, watching the four or five cars head into pit lane, as the rest toughed it out in the wet conditions. Suddenly, as they pack pulled onto the pit straight, she realised that she could be in with a chance for a win if the Camelots couldn't catch her in ten laps after pitting and losing twenty seconds. She just had to be less than two seconds per lap slower. She could hardly believe what she was seeing as she was able to carry the line around the outside of Abbey, overtaking Nu's Lancer by sticking to the wetter line and carrying a far greater quantity of grip through the corner.

As the laps counted past, the Intermediate runners all either capitulated to the conditions or were passed, and with five laps to go, she was in the lead, having been a lap down at the start of the race. The Camelot's were catching, gaining almost a second per lap, however this was a fifty two lap race and not a fifty three lap race, and so, soaked to the bone and absolutely over the moon, Kallen rounded Club, and eyed the checkered flag as she approached the finish line, and raised her arm out of the cockpit triumphantly.

She had won the British Grand Prix.

"YESSS!" she cried into her radio, on the verge of tears. "HOLY CRAP, AMAZING! WELL DONE EVERYONE, HAHAAHAHAA!"

"Well done, brilliant drive." Ohgi cheered, clearly delighted himself. "Pick up rubber, and head to Park Ferme. Well bloody done!"

Kallen wasn't listening, simply waving her arms wildly out of the head surround in virulent jubilation. She was in the fight, she could win this. She could fight.

As she pulled into Parc Ferme near the pit lane, every movement felt like an explosion, every twitch felt like a sudden release of a great weight, as she hurled off her head surround and chucked it into the great unknown as if she was flinging weights that had been strapped to her shoulders like an Olympian. Everything felt fantastic, with even the slightest of everyday functions and movements that took place as Kallen stood up in her moulded carbon seat, arms raised over her shoulders in celebration, felt like the most heroic of achievements, worthy of Homer.

She climbed to the nose of her Type 2 Seiten, which extended out to a stub above the front wing, standing triumphantly on top of the front crash structure, pumping her fists wildly from atop her castle. She had won, and won in style; from a crash on lap one, with a long stint on Hards to cleaving through the track on Softs, and then again on Wets. The first win was always special, but it took on several new dimensions with context.

Her first win in karting was still etched into her mind like a carving on a stone wall, a dank affair in an indoor centre that smelled of spilled oil and sweat. She had driven all day in carts designed for people twice her age, and she could barely stand out of both tiredness and excitement, a drunkenness that had her grinning like an idiot as Naoto ruffled her hair for the sixteen billionth time.

Her first win in Asian Formula Renault four years later had been a similar affair, if moderately more professional in conduct, with open air facilities and a proper podium, though no less vigorous or emotional. Though Naoto was in GP2, racing in Italy, on that particular day, Kallen had not let that spoil the fantastic moment, as she hollered her lungs out from the top step, overjoyed, before giving a filthy, sweaty hug to the woman in second place, who had since gone into motoring journalism. That moment held within it such a charge by virtue of it being her very first step, her first victory along the road to the top. Every exhaustive gesture was ingrained for its wonderful, joyous representation of her success, and every cheer was etched into long-term memory for the pride it whirled through her lungs, turbocharging her breaths in a new freedom.

"YESSSS!"

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 **Please be sure to review to let me know how you think the story is going, and what and who I can bring in to improve it. Thank you, and stay safe.**

 **~Eth0**


	12. OK12 - The Politics of Speed

**OK12 - The Politics Of Speed**

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Britain was the turning point in the 2018 season, as Kyoshiro Tohdoh seemed to realize that there was a very real possibility that he could lose to his rookie teammate after she closed the gap between them to three points, something he could not countenance. He went on a run of mesmerizing drives that, though not enough to catch the Camelots who were increasingly beginning to run away with the championship, could certainly be counted among the strongest of his career.

In Spa-Francorchamps, Belgium, Gino Weinberg finally managed to outqualify his teammate, who started fourth, sandwiching the Rebellion drivers drivers between them, Tohdoh ahead of Kōzuki. Weinberg and Kyoshiro traded the lead between them across several pitstops, until late in the race, where a long-running Lelouch Lamperouge managed to briefly seize the lead. Attempts to replicate his result from Monaco, however, were to prove unsuccessful. Tohdoh, who had jumped past Weinberg shortly beforehand, easily passed the fading Franc, with Gino following through close behind.

Cornelia, the fastest of them all on fresh tires, was hungry for a podium. However, impatience got the better of her. McGlynn and Lamperouge came together heavily under braking into the first corner of the final lap, ending both of their bids for a podium finish and bringing out a safety car. Tohdoh secured his first win of the season behind Marianne Zi Britannia, and Gino reclaimed some of the points lost to Cornelia after his two retirements in a row. Kōzuki completed the podium, though with little joy. All were much relieved to learn that both Lamperouge and McGlynn were unharmed from their accident.

Two weeks later, the two Camelots locked out the front row at Canada, with Cornelia ahead by half of a tenth of a second. Tohdoh, Kururugi, Kōzuki and Odysseus lined up behind them. Gino was quick to take the lead from his teammate, which he would hold until lap 22, when Tohdoh managed to undercut them both during the first round of pit stops. A mid-race virtual safety car handed the lead back to McGlynn, as Tohdoh pitted while the Camelots opted to drive on. Cornelia displayed all of the talent that had secured her so many championships in these races, managing to nurse a set of Prime tyres through a mammoth 34 lap stint to the finish line.

She took victory, with Weinberg and Kyoshiro Tohdoh sequentially one second behind. Kururugi, in the first Rosenberg, was half a minute behind, tailed by Rivalz Cardemonde, who had run a fantastic race to capture a career-best 5th place for Ashford. It was a strong result for Camelot, who was expected to be dominant on the engine dependant Circuit de Gilles Villeneuve. The race, however, was disastrous for Kallen. Gambling for a higher finish, she too had stayed out for an extremely long stint, but her tyres went off the cliff in the final handful of laps, throwing her all the way down to tenth place, where she captured a single, lonely point, barely fending off a charging Lelouch Lamperouge. It displayed that in spite of her pace, she had much to learn in Formula One.

By this point, Kallen was behind by twenty seven points, however the championship was not over yet. With four races left to go, Kallen was reportedly determined to defeat her teammate, spending every waking hour working on her pace to bounce back from her dismal mid season.

China was another course with long straights and few high speed turns, lending itself more to the slippery Camelots. All eyes were on Cornelia McGlynn, who calmly secured pole position ahead of Gino. Suzaku Kururugi qualified in third, beside Kyoshiro Tohdoh, with Kallen Kōzuki lined up in the third row behind them. Gino started strongly, pulled up parallel to his teammate, but then fell back, abandoning the attempt to pass her around the outside of the snail complex. This maneuver brought him across the front of a surging Suzaku Kururugi, who had nowhere to go, and they collided, with Gino being t-boned by the Rosenberg driver and spinning down towards the inside. This collision, for which Gino was later fined, immediately brought out a safety car, and slightly later brought out a large amount of heated internet discussion about his competence as a driver. Kururugi, largely an innocent bystander, was able to limp back to the pits, although this put him to the back of the grid, while Tohdoh lost ten positions by running wide to avoid the spinning Camelot.

Cornelia, freed from her nearest competitors, flew off into the distance, while Tohdoh struggled his way back up through the field. In the end, McGlynn would come home to win the race, leading Kallen Kōzuki home by thirty seconds. Luciano Bradley completed the podium, by barely managing to fend off Tohdoh, who had completed an impressive recovery drive to fourth.

Going into the Singapore Grand Prix in the heart of Southeast Asia, Cornelia led the championship with one hundred and sixty six points, followed by Tohdoh with one hundred and forty points. Kallen was a further twenty one points behind her teammate, but was ahead of Suzaku by eleven points. Gino's DNF's had had a massive toll on his championship hopes, as he languished in fifth with ninety nine points.

However, the tight, twisty circuit at Marina Bay was one of the two street circuits that played into the hands of the smaller, nimbler cars. Kallen turned in a superhuman qualifying lap, making up for a three tenths deficit in the first two sectors with a do-or-die final sector where she nearly sent the car into flight hopping off the exit kerb in a banzai move at the final turn allowed her to sneak past Tohdoh's time and steal Pole Position from her senior, the first of her career.

With Suzaku and Odysseus in third and fourth ahead of the two Camelots, the race got started under heavy rain, which compounded the challenges faced by Gino and Cornelia, however it was Odysseus who choked, getting an abysmal start off the line before tagging his front right tyre off the left rear of Tohdoh, who was cutting across him, and sending the British Rosenberg driver into a half spin at the apex of turn one, blocking the path of his sister Cornelia, who had held the inside line to hold off Gino but was ultimately slowed herself by her brothers mistake, allowing Weinberg to take the outside line and overtake them both. Cornelia eventually rejoined in tenth, however Odysseus's race was over.

The big benefactor was Kallen, who managed to escape from Tohdoh's clutches until the rain dissipated a third of the way through the race and the drivers switched to dry tyres, with Kallen opting to use two sets of Options and Tohdoh hoping to save time in the pits by using one set of slower Primes. While the softer, grippier compound gave Kallen a lot of pace, she did not quite make up the twenty seconds a second pit stop would cost in the second stint, which meant she rejoined in second on lap forty of sixty one, needing to pursue and overtake Tohdoh on track from six seconds behind. While the latter was a simple task, overtaking on the narrow track was not a feat to be overlooked, particularly against a World Champion. Tohdoh defended valiantly on his failing tyres as he tried to run out the laps and avoid making a mistake in what was one of the most tense finishes of the season, Kallen just able to sneak past at turn fourteen on the final lap to take the second win of her career.

Critically, it was an on track overtake in dry conditions, where Kallen had gone toe to toe with her teammate and come out victorious, which did wonders for the morale on her side of the garage as the circus moved to Texas, at the Circuit of the Americas, where the status quo was restored, with Gino and Cornelia qualifying first and second. Kallen put in another great lap of the death of Q3 to jump from fifth to third, ahead of Kururugi and Tohdoh respectively. In the race, Gino was able to hold off a surging Kallen, who had had an inhuman getaway, into the first corner, before she eventually fell back behind Cornelia on the braking zone into Turn Eleven, and secured it was better acceleration onto the back straight. However, Kallen was able to build a gap to Tohdoh during the first stint, after the latter had overtaken Kururugi in a blistering show of pace through the Esses of turns three and four. The order remained like this for some time, however as the pit stop bonanza began around lap twelve, Tohdoh put on Prime tyres to run to the end of the race, a strategy which proved too slow to work around COTA, with both he and Lelouch Lamperouge losing out, and the Japanese Champion would ultimately finish in sixth.

With this result, Suzaku Kururugi, the fourth placed finisher, was now mathematically eliminated from championship contention with two races to go, and only fifty points available at maximum. Going to Abu Dhabi, the lead was Cornelia's to lose, with a dominant thirty point gap to Tohdoh, himself only seven points ahead of his team mate Kallen, whose pace had seriously cranked up the pressure on him going into the night time event. However he struggled past this, and put the car on Pole Position, three positions ahead of Kallen as the Camelots, with Cornelia ahead of Gino, split the Rebellion cars. As the sun went down, the five red lights went dark, and the pack was away. A good start from Tohdoh allowed him to retain his lead through the first sector, however the long straight forced him to drive defensively, forming a train behind him as he aggressively weaved to avoid being overtaken, slowing himself and those behind him down.

After three laps, DRS ended this stalemate, with Cornelia pulling past the beleaguered Tohdoh under braking into the chicane, as his tyres began to overheat. He went to pit to switch to a two stop strategy, before disaster struck; his right rear tyre failed at lock, forcing him to wait thirty seconds for the mechanics to safely secure the wheel to the car before sending him on his way. Only a dramatic crash on the part of Shinichiro Tamaki which brought out a Safety Car could propel him back into the points, the race ending as a Camelot one-two, with Gino claiming his second win in a row after overtaking Cornelia towards the end of the race. It was not enough, however, from avoiding the mathematical crowning Cornelia McGlynn the 2017 World Drivers Champion, as it was now impossible to catch her on points in Brazil, her lead being over twenty five points. It was the third title of her career, and be all accounts widely celebrated.

However, going into Brazil, there was one competition whose fate was very much up in the air; the battle between Kallen and Tohdoh for supremacy at Rebellion-Sakura, and indeed for the soul and direction of the team. Kallen was seven points behind Tohdoh, and there were all manner of permutations that would swing their fight one way or another. Even if Tohdoh scored no points or didn't finish the race, sixth would be the minimum Kallen could afford. A fifth from Tohdoh would require a second from Kallen. If Kallen won the race, they would tie at the very least, and Kallen would be placed ahead for winning more races at three to one. No matter what happened, Kallen had to finish ahead of Tohdoh.

This was the tense atmosphere the team carried to Interlagos, in São Paulo Brazil, with a divide having formed even within the garage, with the younger mechanics who were only recently out of technology institutes rocking heavy tattoos and and a non nonsense attitude rallying behind Kallen and Naoto's quest to uproot the establishment and the old order, and while there were more young engineers than old, more of the design and strategy team were legacy holdovers from the teams glory days.

The divisions had been faint as the season kicked up, with pit crew only occasionally mentioning to Naoto that Kallen had received the freshly designed front wing due to the crew on the ground deciding to give her the newer part, which was in limited supply through the season. In return, the strategists would often send Kallen out on earlier Qualifying runs, allowing Tohdoh to run on marginally grippier track. Paranoia had begun to creep into the pit environment, as cliques began to divide the team. By China, it was decided that Kallen and Tohdoh would have pit crews that worked independently to prevent sabotage. Engineers stopped sharing data, forcing the Kōzuki faction to do its own analysis, however leaving Tohdoh with less access to raw data. The fate of the team, whether to pursue youth or seniority, would be decided within the next forty eight hours.

The one truly neutral party was Rakshata Chawla, whose only major interest was designing a fast car, and found the internal politics of her team to be a major source of irritation. What happened to her designs downstream was of no concern to her.

All this led into their arrival in Brazil, and the great hyping of this showdown in the media. While the extent of the division within the culture of the team was unknown, there was plenty of material out in the public record to detail the deterioration of their relationship, which was certainly a source of intrigue as the weekend rolled on.

"So what happens now, between you two?"

The question came from the back, from a Chinese Sports outlet, and forced Kallen to pause. It was Thursday afternoon, the day before first Practice, and the regular Press Conference was underway, with Tohdoh, Gino, and herself sitting in front of the media corps answering questions going into the weekend.

This particular question was nothing if not fiddly. Kallen and Tohdoh has had a frosty relationship almost since Japan, and whatever tension existed would surely be resolved on Sunday, whether healthily or otherwise.

"Eghhh…" Kallen sighed, fiddling with her microphone as she tried to think her way around the question. "I guess we'll have to see what happens. We obviously are competing for third in the championship, and that obviously leads to some tension in the garage.. but I think... we'll go out and enjoy ourselves, and see what happens afterwards. I think it'll be a fun weekend."

It was a nondescript answer that avoided the whole question, and therefore the correct answer. Furthermore, even in spite of their opposition to one another, Kallen didn't have strong emotions towards Tohdoh. Certainly, tempers flared, and they didn't speak, but Kallen's fight was with Taizo and his doctrine. Tohdoh was just another driver to beat, and she intended to keep it that way.

"So you're not thinking about the points?"

"Meh…" she shrugged, at least pleased to be getting a question she could answer more openly. "It probably distracts you more than anything. I drive as fast as possible, and results come out of that. What are you going to do, thinking about the championship? Slow down? You need to be going for as good a position as you can get, no matter what the championship throws at you."

It was simple, as far as she was concerned; no one ought to stop and be satisfied with less than they could get, simply because of a Championship. Finishing higher was always the goal, which upon reflection made the journalists question seem rather stupid.

Not seeming to notice, or care, the journalist turned to Tohdoh and asked "I see. What say you, Tohdoh? Fun weekend?"

Tohdoh, an introvert at heart, scratched at his cheek slightly before gently leaning into the question, a few mumbled words at a time. "I suppose so. The Drivers Championship is decided, and the Constructors Championship is almost certainly going to the Camelots, so I suppose there is less pressure, but you always have to perform, you can't ever let yourself get dull, or you'll be replaced. It's quite simple really."

Tohdoh was not a man of the media like Gino, who never seemed to go a moment without a massive grin on his face like a teenager, and far preferred a quiet night in the garage to this, and it showed in his answer, which was indecisive and noncommittal. Of course, Tohdoh, Kallen knew from both her own experiences and Naoto's, was fiercely single minded about things he cared about, however these were few and far between. Even when Taizo was ripping into Kallen, he had clearly found the whole situation awkward and not something he would have liked to involve himself in.

This silence didn't pardon him, but he wasn't ever the driving force behind the human element of the team. Whatever the case may be, the Chinese reporter seemed satisfied with the answers he received, and sat to allow another one, either German or Austrian by the accent, ask a question of Tohdoh.

"You've won two world championships, clearly you know a thing or two about rivalries going down to the wire, and what to make of them. Is this any different, because you're getting challenged by a teammate for the first time, or is this like any other head to head showdown you've experienced?"

Tohdoh shifted slightly, seeming uncomfortable in his chair, before piecing together a response with what appeared to be some difficulty.

"I er… I suppose. Certainly, comparisons are easier, but I don't really do much different. I've won from this circumstance before, so I just plan to learn from that and win out. I guess I've had to drive fast, but I've always had to."

"Is there any new aspects to this fight compared to your previous ones, because of that equal machinery? What have you learned over this year because of this new challenge?"

"Of course, our pace is more equalised, allowing for more direct comparison, but it's not erm… perfect. Kallen has bad luck at Canada, with the… strategy, I have bad luck with my wheelnuts in the last race, so… it always has an element of luck." he sighed, clearly trying to stretch out his answer without simply saying he didn't particularly care. "I hope we can have a fair fight but… I mean, I don't control that, so why waste time wondering? It's all abstract."

"Fair enough. Speaking of machinery, can you explain what happened in Abu Dhabi with your wheel jack?"

Getting clearly irritated by the questions, Tohdoh, with some hand waving, explained "An engineer pressed the wrong button and screwed my race. Such is life, and now we're here. I can only do as well as I can with the tools I'm given."

He shook his shoulders slightly, as a Briton asked Gino questions about Cornelia, who was rumoured to be retiring after Brazil, and where that left the team. A brick wall, would be Kallens guess; she had been a stellar driver for Camelot-Yggdrasil, and her loss would significantly hurt the British outfit.

After Gino replied, another British reporter returned to Tohdoh.

"How important would this be to you, to win against Kallen?"

"Obviously, it would be quite mm… interesting to be beaten by a rookie, and obviously it is important to beat your team mate, but there's little nobility or prestige to gain in beating someone in their first year, and a lot to lose if you don't."

"Understandable." the man replied, before continuing "And for you Kallen? Obviously you're being compared to your brother, who we're delighted to hear is recovering well, and matching up well. What has been the key to that pace this year, particularly given you only entered it a ways into the season?"

"I suppose being able to adapt to the car quickly, and dial into its characteristics has helped a lot." Kallen explained. "Being able to understand and push the car to its limits with all the mechanical feedback is very helpful. I don't know how much I can say about my brother. He was a fantastic, exciting driver, and I've no doubt there were other factors at play with his record."

Nodding, the man continued "There's bound a lot of eyes on you tomorrow. It's a classic underdog story. Does that add any pressure?"

"I try not to consider that." Kallen replied. "I'll go out and be as fast as I can be, and results will hopefully follow."

"Do you think you can succeed on Sunday?" he asked, to wrap up his period of questions.

She smirked, and replied "If I didn't, I'd be in a different line of work."

The man smiled, and nodded "Heh, very good, best of luck to the both of you. Have a good race."

* * *

 **I relate on a deep level to Tohdoh. Humans are just... urgh, do I have to deal with this? Anyway, please rate and review!**

 **~Eth0**


	13. OK13 - Unlucky For Some

**OK13 - Unlucky For Some**

* * *

"Woah… hold on now, problem, there's a problem. Ohh oh, oh no, smoke, smoke, a lot of smoke coming out of the rear end. I'm losing power, engine problem."

"Understood, bring it back to the pits, we'll have a look-"

"Oh, oh no. It's getting worse, there's a loud banging, and it's getting worse. Pulling over at Jungçao, I've lost drive. Smoke is pouring out everywhere."

"Okay, stop the car, stop the car and get out, get out of the car. Bring it to a regular stop at the exit of the corner, we need to save the engine."

"Ach… bugger… for pity's sake, now of all times…"

Kallen Kōzuki shook her head in frustration as she flipped the car into neutral, allowing it to roll under its remaining momentum to a stop as the cylinders breathed what could very well be their last. She couldn't believe this. At the last gasp, two corners from the end, her engine gave out, and her weekend could very well be over before it had begun.

Up until that point, she had enjoyed a successful Friday and good Saturday, feeling at one with the setup of the car and having been able to set blistering lap times through Qualifying sessions One and Two. Now it was Qualifying 3, and the last chance to to gain an edge over Tohdoh going into the race on Sunday. The lap, coming at the death of Qualifying to maximise track grip, had being going so well up to that point, having been two tenths of a second up going into the second sector and having held a fantastic line through Pinheirinho, before the engine sent a sudden chill through her spine as she placed her foot on the throttle, and only heard an irregular knocking. Her heart fell deep into her bowels as the car continued to clank and jar, the engine not turning over and beginning to cook itself in its casings as her hopes at having a paid drive next season joined the engine in the department of "Things That Are Significantly Damaged."

Stepping out on the car and hopping onto the grass, she shook her head as the car belched out an inconsistent lick of flames, slowly killing itself as Kallen looked on, standing alone in the grassy plain like a lone ranger. She couldn't bring herself to walk back to the pits for some time, instead watching as the other cars finished their laps, each putting themselves above her on the starting grid for tomorrow's race.

Assuming she made the race.

The car was eventually attended to, with the Brazilian marshalls towing the seven hundred kilograms of carbon and despair up the final stretch of Subida dos Boxes and into the pits. She was not given a similar ride, and had to walk up the steep hill up the long, high speed corner herself, hoping, as she reached the pit lane nestled into the contour of Sao Paulo's rolling hills to see what the damage was, and whether she had a hope of getting out the next day.

The news was grim. A bearing holding the second piston to the crankshaft had failed, allowing the spark plugs to ignite reserves of oil, as well as sending chunks of metal flinging through the sump, doing untold amounts of damage to the bottom end of the engine. As a result, the piston itself had fallen out, the crankcase had cracked under the pressure, and some flaw in the crankcase prevented the engine from turning over.

Rakshata Chawla concluded her post mortem with a healthy draw of her pipe, sucking in all the gases she could before explaining "We have enough spare pistons to shake a stick at, and two sets of crankshafts and bolts for each car. We can get it up on the bench, get the engine out, and replace all the rotating elements by sunrise tomorrow."

"Right." Kallen nodded, standing up a little straighter. There was now a goal to work towards, and a way to achieve it; if they all pitched in, the engine could be ready for the race at four pm tomorrow with hours to spare. Enthusiastic, she asked "So what can I do to help?"

"Get a good night's sleep."

Kallen blinked at this advice, wondering what on Earth the Indian engineer could have meant by this, before, apparently having observed Kallens confused state, explaining "There's not a great deal you can do. This is quite technical stuff. The most productive thing you can really do is relax and turn in early. We might want to do a shakedown, and besides, having you up all night fussing will have you in a right state tomorrow afternoon."

"But surely I can… I mean you're hardly going to do it on your own!"

"You can bet your ass she's not!"

Kallen turned around, seeing at least ten young engineers braced with steely determination and a wealth of caffeine, grinning eagerly at the task at hand. Each and every one seemed ready to tackle the challenge, as Rakshata smirked smugly.

"Lads…" Kallen smiled in awe, suddenly moved by their dedication. "You'll be doing an all-nighter, and you're not even inviting me? What did I do for you?"

Chuckling, Ohgi, who was standing with a torque wrench near the front, chuckled, stepping forwards confidently.

"What've you done? Have you seen this team? Naoto gave it a shot of adrenaline, but you've given it several injections of speed and coke! Suddenly, there's an opportunity for us to toss out the bean counters, and you've been able to inspire all of us to give a run at being a sports team, and not a company! There's only one race left for us to win it, so if we need to pull an all nighter, then you better be damn sure we'll do it!"

Wonderstruck by their determination and trust in her, Kallen almost welled up, and replied "Fine, I'll rest up, but you better deliver one hell of a car tomorrow."

"Wouldn't dream of doing anything else." Rakshata laughed, as the engineers set about removing the engine from the car and Kallen returned to her trailer.

Her sleep was long in coming even after some time watching a film with Naoto, as she continuously felt anxious as to the state of the car. Resisting the urge to rush to the garage in nighties to investigate how things were going, she instead lay in a cold sweat for much of the evening, before finally dozing off some ways past midnight.

She woke up at six in the morning, the sun just peeking over the grandstand on the other end of the park. Shaking Naoto, who had fallen asleep on the couch opposite, to rouse him, she stood to quickly dress herself in the fireproof undergarments that the FIA required, ready to get up and going to give the car a morning test. Naoto, not a morning person, was hardly off the sofa as she leapt out the door and rushed up the hill towards the paddock, mounting the scarps like steps on a staircase, eager to see her Christmas morning present.

However, as she moved towards the back of the pit building, she saw Ohgi standing by the door leading into the back door with a cigarette half burnt away. Hopeful for news, she moved towards the exhausted mechanic, and asked what was going on.

The Japanese man paused, before finishing the last of his light and tucking the remaining white end away and sighing.

"Don't look at the car." he warned, confusing Kallen. He shook his head, before explaining "It's in bits all over the floor, the engine is still out of the car, and it's not looking like its going in any time soon."

Kallen paused, completely baffled, however after a moments staring at the exhausted man she chose to ignore his advice and enter the garage through the back. Ohgi was almost certainly exaggerating.

However, a quick walk through to the front showed that he was not. The rear of the car past the overhead air end intake didn't exist, only consisting of a few chassis hardpoints and mountings. The engine was in four large parts and a million smaller ones spread across the floor, in a suspiciously fitting metaphor for her hopes of taking third in the championship from Tohdoh.

As she stared at the subassemblies scattered across the concrete, Rakshata, who had been hunched over a laptop, noticed her, and sighed.

"We put the pistons in the engine and fired it up about four hours ago. There was a leak, which was eventually traced to a breach in the cylinder wall, which will need to be filled in, as we can't bring in another engine with the regulations." she explained. "The people Sakura only built enough for the year plus one, and they're fully committed to building engines for next year when the rules change to allow bigger motors. We have to fix the problem ourselves."

Kallen nodded. The upcoming rule change expanding the legal size of engine was extensively hyped, however the people supplying the engines were now fully invested in producing those future engines, and the assemblies for the old ones no longer existed. Hoping to learn when the engine would be ready, she anxiously asked "How long does it take to fix the piston walls? Presumably it's not a ten minute job."

Rakshata shifted awkwardly, and answered "With the tools we have here, it's a twelve hour job to do the material injection."

"Twelve ho… twelve hours takes us to two… that means…" Kallen paused, suddenly horrified as she did the maths in her head, her face falling in shock. "It's half eight now, that means… we miss the sta- we miss the race!"

"Aye, but we've put some heads together. We've got some guys coming from the factory with special liner to squeeze in between the cylinder wall and the piston."

Kallen blinked, catching on to what was being implied, before asking "Where are they?"

"Kyoto, the heavy duty stuff is all at the plant in Kyoto." Rakshata explained, trying to break the news gently.

"We… we need to get them from Japan? To Brazil?" Kallen replied, aghast.

"There's a man on flying in with them as we speak, he touches down in Sao Paulo four hours, then it's a three hour fix minimum."

"So you're saying it's impossible to have the car running until three thirty, and we need to be on the grid by four at the latest." Kallen clarified, suddenly realizing how close this was going to be.

"That's about it, yeah." Rakshata shrugged. "But we won't give in. I'd never live it down. We'll get you on the grid come hell or high water."

* * *

"Bloody hell… I don't bloody care about return discounts, just let me off this damn plane! I need to get to Interlagos within twenty minutes, or I'm a dead man!"

Almost barging past the innocent flight attendant, engine specialist and man with altogether too little sleep Saburo Okawachi leapt off the passenger liner with all the grace he could manage, clutching his cargo between two palms with the intensity that Sméagol guarded the One Ring.

The object was a cylinder about ten centimeters in diameter, extending up with a knob at the top and two gauges to measure surface pressure and liquid content, and had been thrust into his hands six hours earlier, with great panic and a scribbled memo instructing him to guard the part halfway across the world on pain of death. Perhaps the death part was overstated, but certainly he had no intention of being the one who resigned the team to another year of sacrificing all at the altar of Tohdoh, and so he sprinted through Departures at full tilt, only stopping to breathlessly purchase a rucksack to allow him to run without being at constant risk of dropping the device, which was worth more than his yearly wage.

As he rushed out of the airport, he leapt at the first taxi he saw, barging past a young couple who had chosen the wrong day to honeymoon and hopping into the back seat as he blurted out a completely logical and understandable explanation to the bemused driver.

"INEEDTOGETTOINTERLAGOSINFIFTEENMINUTESFORTHEGRANDPRIXHURRYHURRY!"

After calmly explaining the situation, the driver nodded and accelerated out of the parking lot, rapidly skating through the Brazilian suburbs as Saburo frantically checked his phones map application to see how long the route would take them, with little else to occupy his nervous mind.

He had been the man in charge of running the fuel and engine loads during Monaco, where he had seen lightning strike the team for the first time, as well as China and Singapore. He had a personal stake in seeing this attempt to unseat the established order of the team go down, as he had himself been relegated to the engine department of the factory in Japan from his position on pitwall for annoying the seniority. Like Kallen, he wanted to throw a brick through their window, and this was his best shot.

They had been making excellent time too, before the predictable Brazilian traffic made its cameo into Saburo's nightmare at the Ponte Jurubatuba, as the road seemed to just stop, three kilometers from the stadium. As the seconds without movement passed by, Saburo realised the mirroring of his situation with Kallens during a race; he had to either commit to the car, or ditch it and run. Either way, he had to choose soon.

After a moment's hesitation, he swore filthily, hurled anonymous Brazilian currency at the driver before leaping out with his backpack and legging it down the bridge as fast as his legs could carry him.

Saburo was young, having joined the team fresh off his mechanical engineering degree, but the three kilometers of all out sprinting in the hottest weather the Brazilian summer could offer zapped at his energy as the tool jumped about, weighing down his backpack. He made it to the front gates at twelve thirty sharp, which was when he was expected, however there was a significant issue; he wasn't allowed in. Without a team neck pass, the organisers stopped him and all his bluster at the gate, where he stayed for ten agonising minutes before he was finally allowed to unless his anxious, panicked energy onto the unexpecting grid.

As he burst into the garage ten minutes late and having destroyed his vocal chords, he hurled the part at Rakshata, and took account of the situation. There was three hours and ten minutes to go before the off, and every other team looked to be pretty much ready to go. Understanding the need for urgency, he moved towards the troublesome cylinder and inserted the device down into its depths, allowing it to press against the metal walls before it began to grind at it, essentially sanding away at the edges.

They couldn't actually fill in the gap; any solvent would melt under the heat of combustion. However, if they increased the width of the cylinder by a few millimeters, they could insert a metal ring in the gap to separate the broken cylinder wall from the piston and seal up the combustion chamber. The concept was simple, but operating the round grinder was a pain, as precision was key; they had to be accurate to within nanometers, or the engine would simply explode again.

With an hour and a half to go, the cylinder wall was finally widened, and the seal was applied into this newly created gap in the ultimate expression of a MacGyver patch job, with consistent pressure all around the circumference, but now the engine had to be assembled and put into the car like the world's most tragic Lego set.

Everyone knew how the parts came together, however this didn't prevent the crew, who had now been awake for over twenty four hours, and the assembly went with moderate issues, such as confusion and a lost spark plug which sent the whole garage into Defcon One

However, as Saburo wrestled the gearboxes rear end into position to allow it to be bolted in, he heard the noise of engines firing up in the next garage along, before it was joined by several others, who within moments were driving out of pit lane and onto the grid. The young engineers at Rebellion had done the fastest build of an engine in racing history, but they had nonetheless missed their time to go. They had missed the call to head onto the tarmac start line, and would have to start from the pits when the race began in fifteen minutes, assuming they were able to start at all.

Not wanting to even contemplate that possibility, Saburo gave the gearbox an almighty shove, finally aligning it before bolting it into place, throwing both caution and washers to the wind in an attempt to at least make the start.

With the drivetrain in place, pieces flew onto the fiendishly complex car, with subassemblies being hurled onto the pivots and mountings with reckless abandon. Meanwhile, Kallen, who had been incredibly anxious, was now rushing on her overalls and HANS as the team lifted the engine cover onto the car, laying the carbon dress on top of the delicate machinery to shield it. The race was on to fuel the car and mount the tyres, before they could finally rotate the cylinders. There was no second chances; if there was one problem, they couldn't fix it. If it didn't start, if Saburo had messed up, if it choked, then there was no redo- if there was even a hesitation, it was all over.

"Please just let this wooooork!" Saburo cried, as he pulled at the cog of the mechanical starter motor, physically heaving the crankshaft into life. There was a pause, a resistance, before the spark finally caught, and the wheel pulled away from him and the engine roared victoriously into life in all its glory, triumphantly singing a baritone note as if to declare its return to all who would question its supremacy, and sending the whole pit crew cheering in celebration as like a phoenix, it returned in their hour of need. It was a glorious anthem that would sing them home to the finish, a marching song that hummed of victory, champagne, and hope.

Hope, now restored.

As the engine settled, having released its temperamental roar to spur on the mechanics fettling it, they set to work making the final adjustments, when they were reminded of their time constraints; the parade lap began on the track.

When they finished their sighting lap around the circuit to troubleshoot the start procedures, they would stop in their grid positions, and the five red lights would begin the race. At the reduced pace of this parade lap, they had a little over a minute and a half before their championship was over.

They removed the straps and leads, umbilical cords for the newborn racer, from the rear of the car as Kallen literally jumped into the seat, with the head surround falling into place moments later. As Ohgi moved to strap Kallen in, Saburo ran across to the pit wall and breathlessly called across to the race marshall "How long?"

"Thirty seconds." she replied, briefly peeking at her watch. Saburo, heart sinking, saw the first cars beginning to crest over the Casio Triangle, and turned back to roar "WE NEED TO GO, NOW!"

As if on cue, the car was dropped off the jacks, and Kallen floored the throttle, pulling a full on drift out of the garage with how much she lit the cold tyres up with her acceleration out into pit lane. She rocketed towards the white line as Saburo watched the red lights blaze on, with one on, two on, three-

"She's made it! She's past the line!"

As the red lights were mercifully still lit, they were through.

Saburo pumped his fist, roaring triumphantly as the lights blinked away, beginning the race. They had made it by three seconds. The margin was as narrow as could be, and they'd just about made it. This was a true triumph, but the battle lay ahead. Even so, it filled them with the confidence needed to topple giants.

* * *

 **A little cameo from my other fic did give me cause to chuckle as I wrote what was a very charged chapter emotionally. That engine is a character unto itself, and we haven't seen the last of it, as next week is the Brazilian Grand Prix itself! Stick around for that, and please rate and review in the meantime, as that really keeps me going, especially as I try to bulk up on future chapters ahead of my exams so that ye won't have a tangible drop in uploads. Thank you, and stay safe.**

 **~Eth0**


	14. OK14 - The Only Way Out Is Through

**OK14 - The Only Way Out Is Through**

* * *

As the last car passed by the pit lane exit, Kallen was released from the safety box, and she wasted no time, welding the throttle to the floor down the Reta Oposta, not wasting the opportunity to cleave her way back up to a position that would see her win the bet. Even now, as the engine shot and popped with concerning irregularity only a few hundred meters into the race, she had a hunger to drag the car to the end. She felt a kinship with it, in all its newfound idiosyncrasies and character and crackles when changing down the gears, its slight shaking at the top end, and its heroic return from death at the dying moments of the prelude. It was human in its anger and hunger for air, fuel and glory. It was like her, as they roared along like lions chasing down prey; it was a fighter.

She couldn't have asked for more appropriate equipment to finish the job with, to see the season through.

And the job was not insubstantial; for the second time this year, she needed to claw her way up from the back, and this time in a car put together moments before the race began. Luckily, she didn't necessarily have to win, only to finish sufficiently ahead of Tohdoh.

But that required a lot of overtaking, which she was prompt with. The backmarkers, in spite of their on track advantage, were still over a second a lap off the pace, allowing Kallen to close up into Pinheirinho and follow up to Junçao, where she claimed one position under braking, managing to block off the car on the inside, and the a second on the long Subida dos Boxes corner, a banked curve that wound up to the pit straight progressively, allowing Kallen to slingshot past on the outside down into the Senna Ess. The chase was on.

Except it wasn't, as she came to grips with her tyres and probable strategy, which was thrown together in a panic at the last minute by a team that was simply concerned with making the start of the race. She was on white Prime tyres, the second hardest set available, which ruled out aggressive strategies like the three-stop of Options-Options-Options-Primes, which many of the front runners planned to avail of for maximum on-track pace, however it did rule a few things in, such as a two stop of Primes-Primes-Options, or even an audacious one stop of Primes-Hards. The latter could save forty seconds in pit stop time, but whether that would compensate for lowered grip would have to be seen to.

Curious, as she completed a second lap of seventy three around the very short circuit, she asked what the situation was with lap times, and how viable a one stop actually was. After a moment's pause, Ohgi responded with news from the front.

"Cornelia and Tohdoh are leading, and battling heavily, two abreast into the middle sector. They're losing a lot of time cutting into one another and battling. Your pace is consistent with theirs, and they are both on Options, pitting in around eight laps. Keep up the good work, just conserve the tyres and stay out of trouble."

Indeed, while her now probable strategy of avoiding pit stops to make up time had vast potential, there wasn't much excitement to be had in passing by a pit lane as everyone else stopped to change tyres, a bonanza which began for the Option tyre runners around lap twelve, with Tohdoh and Cornelia rushing to get new sets of Options on. All Kallen had been doing up to this point was passing by more backmarkers such as the ever pleasant Shinichiro Tamaki, who had nearly run her off the road at turn one as she moved to claim sixteenth.

The two leaders emerged just in front of Kallen after their first stops, with perhaps three seconds in the difference, however Kallen had not pitted, and would not pit for some time. This put her in third, albeit a highly unnatural third borne of a temporary intersection of pit strategies that was unlikely to last for the time being. Comfortable in her own race and safe in the knowledge that she just had to look after herself and not lose time in battles, she had a prime seat to watch a titanic battle between two Champions just up the road. They weren't holding her up, their new tyres mitigating the time lost in their pitched combat, but their fight was simply epic to watch. Cornelia had a slight advantage, ahead but on the outside under braking into the Descida de Lago corner, with Tohdoh just about able to slip his car through the gap with a later braking point, however Cornelia rotated her car faster and had the edge under acceleration.

Kallen couldn't help but egg on the British woman from her viewing seat, as in holding Tohdoh up now she was helping Kallen, who would need as large a gap as possible to Tohdoh when he came out from his third stop. Unfortunately, they began to pull away together, however that was okay, just so long as the gap wasn't too extensive.

However, as the laps piled on, the tyres began to fall more and more off in terms of performance. Twenty laps of Interlagos would make any tyre weary, and while the Primes were almost as tough as they came, only beaten by Hards, even they were showing the strain. Braking zones became increasingly fraught tap dances, sniffing out patches and puddles of grippy surface with a cadence movement of the foot to avoid locking up the tyres. It was like dancing the ballet with an MMA fighter, every movement was cautious and terrifying, as one mistake could take miles out of a tyres life before it reached puncture territory.

By lap twenty five, the tyres were long past their expiry date, the thin canvases being all that separated the tarmac from the rest of the car. Under-rotations abounded, as Kallen continued to struggle to manage the increasing lack of grip under braking, under turn in, and under acceleration. In essence, every change of direction was met with a sudden wrenching of the wheel, with the car both sliding wide and swinging round of its own volition. It felt like directing a hovercraft, directing feeling far more accurate than driving, which implied a significant degree of control.

However, through great adversity and much shimmying under acceleration, she kept her lap times within the confidence interval with every ounce of talent she could muster. The rapidly changing grip levels and challenges required more than any practise that could be mustered; she was driving by the seat of her pants, in her mind barely inches ahead of her tyres, taking the track one centimeter at a time. Every corner was new, like a rally course, which was certainly how the skidding, low grip conditions made it feel. She poured every inch of her soul into holding the car to the circuit as tightly as she could, hugging it with extensive doses of opposite lock and steely eyed determination.

Tohdoh was far away now, almost fifteen seconds up the road, and approaching his second stop, with Ohgi keeping her distracted with his times and delta. She shook her head; she would not be discouraged. She was stronger, she was faster, and she would beat him. Believing otherwise was a self fulfilling prophecy, but he would also have an extra pit stop towards the last third of the race, whereas she was only stopping once.

She had the fortitude, she had the will. She didn't imagine, had never imagined, ever wanting something quite so dearly and quite so desperately as the simple desire to stay on the track, to guide the car around one more corner, to just hold on. It wasn't conscious, nor aspirational; it wasn't like her desire to enter Formula One of months earlier, or like a drivers desire to win a World Championship. It was deeper, more primordial, a fight or flight instinct that simply consisted of "Just get around this corner. Now this one. Nurse the car around this one. One more."

For the ten lap period where the tyres slowly killed themselves, she fell into a tunnel, where the black tarmac sucked her up and absorbed her, and she was simply a passenger, her arms simply acting as an agent to get her from point A to B. She was alive, the engine was alive, and they were ready to maintain the fight even as the grip failed.

After five more laps, she was offered a final relief from her misery and pain as the pit window opened. The engine was beginning to show signs of its wear, with occasional misfires on cylinder two, the one that had been recently repaired. She capitulated on lap thirty two, finally diverting off the banking final turn and peeling into the pit lane, locking up all four tyres to slow the car in time.

Barely avoiding a speeding penalty, she engaged the pit limiter, rolling the rubber caracasses to their final resting place in the pit box, where she was elevated by a pit crew that had already lifted her so far. They replaced the old tyres with a new set of Hards to run to the end effortlessly, dropping her down back onto the tarmac and sending her away. The smooth process betrayed none of their hours, with her new tyres arriving with no drama. She saw in her mirror their celebrations of a job well done, with fist pumps and high fives, as they withdrew with the shreds of rubber that had dragged her this far back to the garage and smiled. They had done all they could, and had not put a foot wrong, but it was all down to her now.

She took in a breath, and blasted the throttle down the pit exit, unleashing the torrent of power down the Reta Oposta, swallowing the air and charging it into speed with explosive immediacy. The new grip was a godsend, but she had to preserve it, not wearing down her treads, as they were to carry her to the end in forty five laps.

The time taken to pit was made up for within two laps, as the three stoppers such as Cornelia and Tohdoh stopped for the second time onto a third Options before their Prime stint at the end. With an undercut of two laps of fresh tyres, Kallen was able to close the gap to the two leaders by a few seconds, but her newfound spirit of conservation meant that she wound up behind them both by about eight seconds.

Behind Kallen was Gino, quietly plugging away at his two stop and beginning to look like a dark horse contender for victory if the two leaders were held up in traffic, and Lelouch, who was nursing Hards on a one stop identical to Kallens. Another pit stop for the leaders would put them directly behind Lelouch, giving them that three car buffer to clear to win, but they would be going orders of magnitude faster, and would use those new tyres to cleave through the pack, at least in theory.

However, as she continued on, continuing her own race as she had been doing, external forces intervened, as Gino, with a faster Prime tyre, descended on her like a bird of prey, bouncing across the Senna Esses and hounding her exhaust down the straight that followed, before attempting a pass down the inside.

Kallen ultimately held the outside line and swung the car onto the exit kerb, preventing Gino from properly winding his Glaston up on the exit, however this action cut into the tyre tread, eating at its shelf life from the overexertion and stress. Her first instinct was to ignore the wearing, the disintegration of the rubber under a compromised line, as they stayed side by side down into Descida de Lago, however as the braking marker came up, Kallen hesitated.

Her goal was to beat Tohdoh. Would fighting Gino help her achieve that?

Of course, her initial instinct was to reply that of course it would. Having track position over the leaders would separate her from them, and place her higher. However, as she pressed on the brake pedal, easing the car into deceleration, she remembered Lelouch's advice.

"You don't go with what you think is the fastest, you only go with what clears the task at hand."

She wasn't racing Gino. Fighting him could work to stay ahead of him, certainly, and she might be able to finish ahead of him, however this was not the goal. The goal was to beat Tohdoh, and getting into a fight would lose her time relative to Tohdoh, just as how his fighting with Cornelia had slowed him down earlier in the race. Furthermore, wetting her gunpowder at this point if Tohdoh was going to ultimately catch the both of them.

Reluctantly, she slowed the car just before the apex, and allowed Gino to carry the outside and move past on the way up to Ferradura. He took off, bolting away towards turns eight and nine. It hurt to watch, but she consoled herself by contemplating the time she was saving by not getting caught up in attempting to barricade the circuit to him.

And the time that had been saved would prove critical, as after fifteen more laps caught in no man's land, Tohdoh and Cornelia had made their final pit stop, coming out with Primes for an eighteen lap sprint to the finish about ten seconds behind Kallen, and five behind Lelouch. This was far more preferable to them being right up her diffuser, however as she received this news, she did some maths.

Tohdoh was seven points ahead of her, and she was in second. The points gap between second and third and fourth was three points and three points. If Tohdoh beat either Cornelia or Lelouch, then he would finish ahead in the championship by a point.

However, it appeared she was in luck, as based on the reports from Ohgi, Cornelia was ahead of Tohdoh, and was approaching Lelouch at a rapid rate, eventually overtaking him up the Reta Oposta. However, for now, things were looking up.

But of course it wouldn't last. It never would. After all that had happened, it was ludicrous to even begin to believe that that would be anywhere near the end of affairs. As if on cue, Ohgi's voice came over her radio, and read out the death sentence.

"Kallen, your engine is only firing on five cylinders, injector two has failed. Box this lap... we... we need to retire the car. I'm sorry mate, I'm… sorry."

Ohgi choked on the final apology, clearly disappointed that this would be the end of their weekend which had been filled with such potential. But Kallen wasn't disappointed.

Kallen was angry, and Kallen didn't have another scheduled pit stop for them to force her to retire in.

"Sod that! Honestly, sod that! You can take that idea and sod right off with it! I'm not retiring until this car has caught fire! Let's go, we're not stopping!"

Furious, she flipped down the gears to engine brake into turn one, leaning on what was left of the engine to slow her down for the left-right corner, as she worked things out. Cornelia was rapidly approaching, however Tohdoh was stuck behind Lelouch.

With a gap of seven points, Kallen needed to finish ahead of Cornelia, and Lelouch needed to finish ahead of Tohdoh. For once, she was in luck, as she still had an ace up her sleeve.

"Shift set one, shift set one."

Kallen spoke out the command hurriedly, with most of her attention still fixated on pulling the slowly dying car towards the finish, one braking zone at a time. She could only hope that the message would be received well by Lamperouge, who would undoubtedly have interests of his own. Now, she could only hope he would keep up his end of the bargain as she battled on.

The pink hues began to creep into her mirrors with fourteen laps to go, slowly encroaching on her position like a panther preparing to drop onto its prey. Kallen steeled herself for the coming battle. No matter what happened, Cornelia was staying behind her, even as the smudge grew to a roaring pink beast that consumed her rear view mirrors, before it suddenly struck, darting at her inside with a sudden ferocity. Cornelia was making her move.

However Kallen would have none of it, cutting across under braking into Bico de Pato, and squeezed every drop of torque from her now five cylinder engine to propel the car off the outside kerb, clutching what became the inside line through Mergulho like the handrails of a staircase, clinging to it to give some safety to her thrashing recklessness, not to mention that which would surely follow if she was to keep the position for fourteen laps.

It seemed as if she might not even keep it for one, as Cornelia, with the superior engine complemented by not being moments from seizing up and dying, held the speed around the outside as they went two abreast through the high speed sweeper. Kallen could only begrudgingly note that Cornelia was certainly determined to seize the position. However, determination alone would not put off Kallen, as although Cornelia was able to pull ahead on the drag down to the second to last corner a Junçao, where her engine had broken down in Qualifying. With a second death seeming as if it would be not long in coming, Kallen was immensely nervous as she broke down Cornelias inside, hugging the apex before rotating late into the corner, which kept her ahead on track. However, turning in earlier allowed Cornelia to preserve more speed through the bend, and accelerate faster up towards the start finish line. She pulled ahead through Subida dos Boxes, forcing Kallen to file behind into her slipstream through Arquibancadas, on the run up to the the finish line. Kallens engine woes were masked by the vacuum behind Cornelias car, which meant that she had much less drag on the approach to turn one in spite of her lowered power output.

With this momentum at the end of he pit straight, she bit into her brakes as late as she dared, diving towards the apex and spearing the car down through the Senna esses with reckless abandon, nearly sending her car off the track on the exit, but just about holding on, and reclaiming second place at the expense of precious tyre life.

So the race continued; with her limited ammunition, Kallen held off the oncoming horde with sporadic barrages of grip, digging into the leading edge of the track like a boxer might lean on their toes and the balls of their feet to become more agile and mobile.

Punch drunk, Cornelia would continue to pull ahead on the straights, before Kallen would again dive into the slightest of gaps, eating at the rubber that was quickly running out as they entered the final lap. As they passed the finish line for the penultimate time, now two abreast, Kallen squeezed along the inside, barely inches from the pit wall as they broke into the first corner. Kallen locked up all four tyres to keep the track position downhill down into Curva do Sol, pinched between a wall and a pink place. However, she saw the better end of it, and rolled the car down and into the sweeper with no damage, and decent momentum, however the tyres were shot, withered down to canvassess, the grippy rubber having been dragged and deposited over the track to hold off Cornelia for one more corner, then one more, and then one more.

However, there were still another fourteen, and already Kallen could feel a wobbling in the steering wheel and an inconsistency in the track as it was related through the tyres and suspension to her seat in vibrations. Her tyres were out of grip, and could sustain a puncture at any moment.

As if that would stop her.

The braking zone into the double left hander at Descida do Lago was fraught and sent Kallens heart into her mouth, beating away as she barely slowed the car enough to make the turn, however in going deep she was able to switch back from the outside of the exit to the inside of the second part of the corner, putting her parallel with Cornelia as they approached the narrow, twisting part of the track. The pink Camelot had the inside line into Ferradura, however Kallen was able to roll the car in behind Cornelia to preserve speed, before getting on the throttle earlier on exit.

The Japanese driver got a kick of oversteer for her troubles, though with a healthy dose of opposite lock, an instinctual correctional jerk of the wheel, she was able to drag the car forward and up to Cornelias level. Just a few more corners, only five to the end. Ripping and tearing at the fabric of the treads, ripping them off as if they were restraining, four left with a pulling and jerking away, the car simply unwilling to turn without titanic effort. Three, a long sweeper, with the rear end sliding out at over a hundred and fifty miles per hour. She was driving on ice, but she was the most elegant of skaters. Two, braking like she had hit a brick wall, depositing all the rubber that remained on the apex before blasting up towards the finish.

Cornelia had been held, but- ach! The exit was poor, with low rear end grip, and her acceleration was dampened. Kallen was ahead, but Cornelia was faster in a straight line. Kallen could see her in the mirrors, but then she moved into her blind spot, but then she was gaining on the run up to the line. It would be so close, two hundred meters, one fifty, oh God, Cornelia was pulling alongside-

And across the line! Even though the race was over, Kallen kept the throttle pedal open for some time after crossing the line unconsciously, as if to ensure she had in fact made the finish. Her foot felt heavy, and alien, refusing her command to ease off the throttle as she ploughed off the track and onto the grass. It wasn't her controlling her body, her body had been controlling her. Eventually falling through the gears, Kallen came to a controlled stop some ways into the run off area.

She hadn't the strength to continue. Everything, every element of car, body, and soul that could have been used had been. She was finished. She sat still in the car as Ohgi anonymously narrated what had been going on around her.

"Fantastic job, you finished second place from last place, what an- oh, oh my word! Aha! He's done it!"

Hearing the sudden shift in her engineers tone, Kallen paid attention as he announced "Lelouch has just about held on! The madman has actually kept fourth! He beat Tohdoh at the last corner, which means you're ahead in the championship tally by a point! He just crossed the line there, you did it!"

It didn't register, at least not cognitively, until Kallen watched Lelouch drive past her down the Senna esses, his hand waving victoriously and vicariously out of his cockpit as if he'd won the race. Tohdoh followed after him moments later, passing by her static field of view forcing the point to sink in.

She had beaten Tohdoh. Not just in the race, but in the championship. By the skin of her teeth and then some, but a victory was a victory. Breathless, she raised her arms above the head surrounds, and roared ferociously for some time.

* * *

 **"Is that Glock, is that Glock holding up Tohdoh, it is! Oh my goodness me...!"**

 **That was a little close for comfort, but everyone came together and pulled through the challenge, scraping by on the skin of their teeth. Man alive, that last section where she leaned on the last fragments of rubber was absurdly intense. Thank you everyone who has been reading up to this point. I'd really love some reviews if that's at all possible, they really help me gauge whether I'm steering this ship in the right direction. Thanks again, and stay safe!**

 **~Eth0**


	15. OK15 - Spoils Of War

**OK15 - Spoils Of War**

* * *

For having driven off the track by some way, drained of all energy necessary to navigate it to Parc Ferme, there was a long walk back to the podium. She slowly removed the head surround and unzipped her thick nomex overalls to allow them fall by her sides, her lycra undershirt sparing any blushes, however letting her body expel the built up heat into the Brazilian evening. Her arms, ruined by the effort it had taken to navigate the untreaded Seiten to its final place of rest, could barely raise themselves to acknowledge the ecstatic crowd, chanting wildly in celebration from Reta Oposta to the pits.

"OSHIYOSERU KŌZUKI!"

She had no idea how many Japanese had made the trip south to watch what was an immense intranational clash, but she doubted it was enough to generate the volume emanating from the stadiums at this moment. They crowd was sharing in her moment as outsiders, however she welcomed them in, as she felt they understood and had invested emotionally in Kallen as a driver, one who had taken on Goliath, and won. She could barely hide her smile as she trekked up towards the pit lane from behind, where all but the top three cars lined up in Parc Ferme, or two in this instance due to Kallens shoddy parking. Suzaku was hunched over a laptop with Lloyd, both clearly disappointed by a race which apparently had been hampered by contact made with a Geely which had forced him to pit early. Lelouch was celebrating with Rivalz and Milly, sharing what appeared to be a case of wine.

Lelouch noticed her and waved, nodding in acknowledgment. He looked almost as tired as she did, a testament to his defensive driving.

Kallen took particular amusement out of Tohdoh's car being unattended as she finally made it to where the team was standing, just outside the press box.

Naoto, clearly searching, was the first to spot her approach from behind, his face suddenly lighting up as he bounded across the tarmac as fast as his crutches and good leg would carry him, eventually tossing them aside as he half leapt, half fell into Kallen with excitement, who only just kept them upright.

"You actually did it…" he whispered into her ear as she propped him up in a makeshift hug. "You actually beat him… I mean… holy shit I knew you were fast but I didn't know if… in your first year with these machines, it's incredible, well bloody done…"

Kallen chuckled as their foreheads ground together. Their embrace tightened, before Kallen leaned down to pick up her brothers crutches, which he received with some reluctance. However, she kept one arm over his shoulder and transitioned from the hug to standing side by side, linked together in celebration, inviting the rest of the team to join the melee. While they were careful not to roughhouse the elder Kōzuki too much, the enthusiasm of the half of the mechanics who had rushed over was clear to see, and feel. Of course, as ever, the other half was unamused by this, clearly not sanctioning their buffoonery as they busily scribbled at notepads.

Not that Kallen, or indeed any of her clique, cared a great deal. This was their team now. They would throw the bums out, there was nothing stopping them now absolutely nothing. The crowd of engineers quickly dissipated however as Kallen was summoned to the podium proceedings. Hopping over the media barrier, Kallen left the crowd, and walked over to the Camelot drivers, who were waiting to be weighed, and waved across as she approached. Gino, the eternal social butterfly, waded his way across, and gave Kallen the mother of all high fives, before laughing "Well done mate! I've just seen that battle you had with Cornelia, that shit was intense! Good second!"

It was typical of the worlds most outgoing man to describe someone that he had held maybe two conversations with in his lifetime as "Mate", however Kallen could match his energy, replying "And yourself, that was blistering pace you had on that last stint. How many is that, three wins on the trot?"

"Sure feels good, should be a fun 2019 at this rate." Gino grinned, before continuing "But this was your race. Finishing second with a car put together moments before the start is nothing to sniff at. Can't wait to have a proper scrap next year."

"Absolutely." Kallen nodded, pumped up, however as Gino moved to weigh himself for the benefit of the stewards, she was left alone with Cornelia, whose reputation was decidedly more intimidating than her teammates. At four inches shorter than the triple world champion, Kallen should have felt more than a little uneasy as Cornelia turned towards the driver who had held her at bay for laps at a time, with Kallen being aware of the Britons notoriously choleric, curmudgeonly nature. However, Kallen was high on adrenaline, and hard to intimidate that notwithstanding either, and was suddenly getting ready to refute accusations of aggressive driving or foul play.

This expectation was pleasantly subverted though, as Cornelia nodded down ever so slightly at her, and gave a soft, respectful smile, before speaking in a gentle tone that did not match the less than sensitive fire she was known for.

"Well done, it was quite close in the end. I must admit, I found your pace surprising, your brother was never quite so challenging."

While the underhanded sleight towards her brother rankled, it was such an improvement from Cornelia that she did not protest, instead replying "Yeah, it was intense. Those tyres were cracked, peeled, I thought I might lose the position."

Cornelia shook her head, replying "You drove like a woman possessed, I didn't think I would have shaken you even if I did get ahead. Not that it matters to me I suppose; you had a fair bit more to fight for."

Kallen nodded, casting her mind back to Lelouch, who had somehow kept Tohdoh in his mirrors. Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad with him on the team, if she kept up her end of the bargain. Clearly, he could drive a car with some competence, which was a surprise. However, he wasn't important at the moment, as Kallen took her turn at the weighing scales, as Tohdoh had not finished high enough, a point etched into every line in the face of Taizo Kirihara, who was now blown up onto the television as the media waited for the podium proceedings.

Jumping off, Kallen felt like she weighed nothing at all as she looked at the projection of Kirihara. This was what he deserved for messing with Naoto's health, let alone his business practices, his golden boy being shown up by the rookie he'd tried to sideline. While it was not known explicitly by the public, his face spoke a thousand words.

However, she knew she had to discipline herself. She was still a part of this team, arguably a bigger part, and she had to ensure her clique could manage it while maintaining good relationships with the people Tohdoh would leave behind.

However, that bright future was to come, as they made their way up to the podium. As they ran up the stairs, Kallen heard the loudspeakers roar out to the local crowd, which was now gathered at the start line, announcing their arrival.

"And here they come now, our podium finishers. On the bottom step in her final race is Cornelia McGlynn, pipped to the post by second place finisher Kallen Kōzuki! But your winner of the 2018 Brazilian Grand Prix is Gino Weinberg! Interviewing our top drivers is former four time world champion, Bismarck Waldstein!"

The retired German was waiting for them as they ran up to the platform, shaking their hands as they picked up their trophies. Kallen shook hers viciously, though she lacked the strength left in her arms to raise it fully. Cornelia had a better time, holding it above her head with equal parts pride as dignity, however Gino, not bound by such a sense of propriety, was positively bouncing off the walls with excitement, pulsing the trophy up and down with joy. Kallen could only chuckle as he pumped his fist before leaping off the stand and cheering down towards the ecstatic crowd. He was cut from her cloth, as far apart as they had been born, and they both stood in contrast to the consummate professional Cornelia.

As Gino continued in his celebrations, Kallen moved towards the champagne, stored on the right hand side, not wanting to be unarmed when the madness began.

Someone, long ago, undoubtedly an individual of great wisdom and born with a lust for chaos, discovered that if one shook a champagne bottle, covered the opening with your thumb, and only left a small opening, the liquid would spray out like a foamy hose, which had formed a long standing tradition within the sport of spraying the other podium finishers with the tops of fomented alcohol, and Kallen was emphatically not about to engage in unilateral disarmament.

Grabbing the neck of the bottle, she shook the glass before popping open the top, spraying Gino while his back was turned, getting the drop on the Briton, whose back was soaked thoroughly before he was able to duck, and run to grab ammunition, evading for a moment before unleashing frothy vengeance on Kallen, wetting her hair, before he tipped the neck over his own head and soaked in the liquid. Kallen joined him in the self drenching, leaving Cornelia, who was content to simply empty the contents of the bottle into her throat, lacking what Kallen considered the flair that her teammate had.

However, Kallen didn't care, emptying the bottle down her chest before shaking the slight beads off her hair and overalls, feeling at once cooled and invigorated, as she set down the empty bottle, rising up to her knee, before wiping her lip and looking on as Bismarck, who had retreated once Kallen had made for the champagne, braved the platform once more, now that the alcohol was spent and the spirits were drained.

"Great race, eh?" the German cheered, getting a fantastic reception from the crowd. "Wonderful, wonderful. Let's have a word with some of our podium finishers, eh?"

Receiving more cheers, he moved towards Gino, slapping him on the back, and congratulating him, yelling "Hell of a drive, getting out of traffic was definitely key to the win, avoiding being held up by people on longer strategies, was that part of your considerations, or did you play it by ear?"

"I definitely knew I wanted track position more than anything, but starting on softs forced us onto at least a two stop. Cornelia would have had the pace to pull off a three stop, if not for Kallen and Lelouch holding them up. The lap times those new tyres gave were immense, but getting ahead of Kallen really saved my bacon in that last stint."

"So does this give you confidence going into next year?"

Positively beaming, Gino nodded, replying "Hell yeah! Winning the last few races is a great boost for next year, when I can challenge for a second title after such a dry period. I'm bloody pumped! Bring it on!"

Chuckling at the younger Champions infectious enthusiasm, Bismarck moved along, shaking hands with the young, short Kallen, the shortest person on the platform and the only platform without a World Championship, which did not bother her in the slightest. In light of recent events, she doubted it would be too long until she was able to seize a WDC, and grow another two to three inches in height. She had always punched above her weight, and was never bereft of confidence, and so met Bismarck's handshake with the confidence of a young woman with plenty to prove.

"Firm handshake." Bismarck affirmed, chuckling, before continuing "So, Driver of the Day in the public vote, and well deserved. I mean, I don't think anybody expected you to start, let alone climb to second, without a Safety Car or rain. Did you think you'd get out on track when you woke up?"

"When I saw the state of the car at dawn, I had my doubts." Kallen chuckled. "But… man, everyone pulled together. I was amazed, inspired, by how much work they put in. I think they've been up for forty hours now, and going through that, having the strength to muscle past it and finish the job in the nick of time… there was no way I could come home without a result after that."

"You certainly made that fairly clear over the radio." he joked, referring to her shouting at Ohgi, however he continued "And with that result you claim third place in the championship from Tohdoh by a point. What does beating him now mean to you, especially in a junior year where you missed two races?"

Kallen shook her head, taking a moment before responding. This year had put her brothers health at stake, as well as her status within the team. It had been do or die, and it had been bloody close, but as she suddenly came to realise, it was over. There was no more runway, no more fights to be had.

"It… it meant everything." she admitted. "Getting this early on does wonders for… your confidence, in yourself and the team… and really, I came into this season on a borrowed seat which I had to drive to keep. I think that I've pulled it off, and that is really a big thing."

"So, is a Championship in the cards?"

Kallen smirked, giving a nod and a fierce, fiery thumbs up before replying "You bet your ass it is!"

This was met with a chorus of whoops and cheers, which fed back to Kallens newfound adrenaline. She felt invincible, high on the emotions that were still strong in the minutes after crossing the line, and was not about to turn down another challenge. After all, she outdrove Tohdoh! With another year under her belt, who knew where she could be? For the first time this year, she was looking to the next season with a certainty impossible before she had beaten Taizo, and it filled her up with a zeal. She had the talent, raw, and unbridled. Now, she could apply it. She would not be beaten.

"Fantastic, that's the spirit." chuckled Bismarck. "We'll hope to see some more of that in the next season. Moving on now, let's have a word with the third place finisher, whose drive far outstripped her finishing position. Cornelia, my former teammate for those of you who remember back to back then in the early 2000's, I have to say I can imagine you feeling quite disappointed. You set fastest lap after fastest lap, and yet it ultimately didn't add up. What happened?"

"The strategy was the wrong one." Cornelia replied, forward even in the company of Waldstein. "We thought that if we could push through midfield traffic using our pace and avoid the harder compounds, but we get bogged down, and that cost us the win. Simple as that, hardly any point in beating around the bush. Absolutely unacceptable, however I must say that the results of gino and Kallen were well earned."

"Of course." Bismarck nodded. "We can only look back, so I'm assuming you'll be taking these lessons into next year?"

Cornelia fidgeted slightly, which suddenly transfixed Kallen. God bled! Cornelia had no emotional chinks, with the possible exception of her younger sister, however the short pinkette was nowhere in sight, leaving Kallen to only wonder what on earth could have troubled her. It took her a moment, in which the world briefly paused to pay attention, to finally announce her thoughts.

"I'm afraid not. I think that it should be quite unlikely that I will be on the grid next year. My brother Odysseus is retiring from his seat in Rosenberg, and I feel that I would join him. Three titles would do nicely, I think. I'm certainly in no doubt that the sport is being left in good hands, as we saw today."

Even Bismarck, whose retirement announcement had crashed the sports social media page, seemed taken aback by her straightforward presentation. The news itself was not, for lack of a better word, news, with rumours having been circulating, but her matter of fact presentation, combined with a clear emotional spontaneity that was wholly out of character, was certainly unexpected.

However, he recovered admirably quickly, replying "Well that's a shame. Sure look now, all good things must come to an end, and as you say, there's plenty of young talent coming up. Perhaps you might finally find the time to visit me in Hamburg."

"Perhaps." she replied, earning a chuckle from the crowd as Bismarck shook his head, continuing "Well, that was fairly unequivocal. In any case… whew, that certainly was quite something. Well, wherever you are, I hope you enjoyed that, and we'll be back next year in Australia for 2019. We'll see you then!"

Bismarck took a slight bow, before walking off, allowing the three on the podium to disperse down towards the Press Room in their own time. Cornelia, after standing awkwardly for a moment, decided to walk down almost immediately, only stopping to accept a sweaty hug from an emotional Gino, ever sanguine, who congratulated and thanked her with great intensity. Smiling slightly, Cornelia returned the sentiment, before heading downstairs. Kallen, who had been celebrating with her mechanics down at ground level, turned back around, and was inclined to join Cornelia, however Gino gave a slight cock of the head, pulling her back towards the podium.

"What's up?" she asked, before he replied "Let's get a picture!", with his phone held up in his hand and a grin etched into his face from ear to ear, like the absolute dork he was. He just wanted a selfie. She scoffed, but humoured him, standing next to him as he extended the camera out and faced it back towards them, giving a peace sign with his free hand. Amused by his antics, she smirked as he captured the photo, quickly making to social media to share it with a litany of hashtags and mentions. She chuckled, finding his enthusiasm somewhat endearing.

After completing the task, he paused, pocketing the mobile before asking "Are you heading up to Daytona this year?"

Kallen paused, and thought. The Daytona 500 was a part of the National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing, very different from Formula One racing, with its own drivers and cars. However, the 500 in Daytona, the first of the was a race that was held above all the others, being the most attended sporting event on earth every single year. More than a few drivers from F1 made the trip across from Europe and Japan to race in Daytona International Speedway, an oval that was far more challenging than its simple shape led one to believe. However, she didn't quite grasp what she meant by 'heading up', and so asked "Could you be more specific?"

"Rivalz Cardemonde- you know him, right? Ashford driver? Well, he's from California, and he always invites a few of us up to the race with his families team. Myself and Lelouch were initially penned down, but Lamperouge wants to spend more time with his sister in Japan. Apparently she's going through some final surgery soon, however that leaves us with a free seat if you want it, just for the one race."

Kallen, unsure, gave it a thought, reluctant to send a recovering Naoto on another plane trip that would cause them to hardly speak for a weekend due to business, however it was certainly an opportunity, and not one that would necessarily prove to significant a burden; one race weekend in the off season, surely not too calamitous a concept.

Sensing her uncertainty, he backed off, continuing "It's entirely up to you, I just thought you might enjoy the change of pace. Might as well keep your eye in over the break. It's grand if you want to enjoy your free time, I can certainly relate to wanting to sleep a good bit more than the season allows."

"I'll see." she nodded, seeing the possibility of racing at the Indy 500 at a uniquely convenient time of the year. "Could be a bit of fun."

"That's the spirit!" Gino replied, beaming once more, before continuing "I'll pass you along my number if you want to get back to me, but-"

"Oy! I don't know what ye are playing at, but there's a press conference downstairs if you wouldn't mind drawing your little date to a close!"

Kallen and Gino both turned about themselves in an instant at the summons of a marshall, evidently not pleased over having to wait. Kallen blushed, rather embarrassed at both forgetting to go down, and the man's insinuation, however Gino did not know the meaning of the word shame, and so dramatically turned up his nose, and replied "Very well then!", crossing his arms with a slight pout, before chuckling and walking down towards the stairs, slapping the man on the back before disappearing into the darkness.

Perhaps she very well might join Gino and Rivalz. It should prove good fun, if nothing else.

* * *

 **End of Act One, Virtu** **osity. Oshiyoseru Kōzuki will return soon for Act Two, Ruination. When I next see you, I will be a university student. Until then, please review generously- I'd love to finish this, we're only a third of the way through!**

 **~Eth0**


	16. OK16 - Housekeeping

**OK Number 16 - Housekeeping**

* * *

Taizo tapped at his pen for the eighteenth time in the last minute, examining it intently in its capacity of distracting momentarily from the pair of redheaded elephants seated at the opposite end of the room. He likely had not expected to have to have this conversation back in October, when Kallen had challenged him single handedly, standing up against him. It was ill advised, but Kallen was nothing if not bold and assertive.

It was one of her best traits, Naoto reflected. She fought her corner like a pitbull, and could be readily relied upon to speak her mind, and she certainly had a bite to match her bark. There was no fear, whether in the car or in the meeting room. Naoto, a far more easygoing man, was to some extent dragged along in her harebrained schemes like the coup of Rebellion-Sakura Racing Team, but it was certainly a hell of a ride. In all his days, he had never imagined Taizo being in anything other than a domineering, unnassailable position. And yet, here he was, in a position he had never imagined in his time in the team.

"So." Kallen proceeded, arms crossed. "We have some items to sort out before the next season. Organisation, development, and personnel."

"Certainly." replied Taizo, who was clearly of two minds. Clearly, he was uncomfortable, having been proven wrong, but Naoto could see in him the opportunist that gave him his reputation as an effective manager. He clearly realized that in spite of his loss, he had a blessing in disguise; a dark horse racer who had proven faster in her first season than a world champion.

Being embarrassed by Kallen was certainly not the worst problem to have, so long as he was able to keep her onboard. Hence, when he continued, he was uncharacteristically diplomatic, desperate not to lose the new talent.

"It's quite important we resolve these issues quickly, and before you head off to America, particularly in light of our new suppliers, and our new people on the ground. We are undergoing a restructuring in light of recent… departures… but this means that I can follow through on what you've earned."

Taizo was alluding to Kyoshiro Tohdoh, who had lit the world on fire with an unassuming Tweet announcing that he was taking a break from the sport for 2019, with no pre-announcement or fanfare. It was typical of Tohdoh to have such unspectactularity in his actions, and had caused a headache for the Rebellion PR team, who had leapt into damage control mode with great efficiency, if also great disorganisation. In any case, his sledgehammer approach certainly saved Kallen a lot of blushes, as there was no need for press conferences or other such awkwardness with his unambiguous statement.

It also had several effects on the team. Tohdoh had many personal sponsors paying into the team, who left with him. One of these were the Four Holy Swords, an engineering company of whom he was a personal stakeholder. They owned, among other things, the Auto-Sakura Group, who produced the Rebellions engine. Ending this relationship meant that Rebellion would have to shell out the cash to buy an engine from Yggdrasil. Certainly, the Yggdrasil that powered the Camelots would provide much needed pace, but not having an engine made in house could cap potential, as well as create packaging issues, as they were buying and not designing the motor.

"We'll have to raise a lot of money for all this, bear in mind." Taizo cautioned, observing that they would have to obtain new sponsors to fill the gap left by Tohdoh and created by the new purchased parts. This made Naoto uneasy, however he took in a breath and nodded as Kallen did, as she said "Give me the tools, and I'll win you a should get you a sponsor or two."

Taizo, clearly eager to seem agreeable, raised his hands and replied "It can be done. We'll need you to work with our engineers on the new design, but that shouldn't be a problem. All the people you worked with last year will be ready to build a car around your needs."

Naoto knew that this wasn't as golden an offer as it appeared. The new Gūren designed every year was always tailored to the exact demands of the driver, though in previous years it had been Tohdoh who spoke first, to put it kindly. Both the Type-1FS of 2016 and the Type-2 Seiten of 2017 were long wheelbase, low rake machines that drove smoothly and efficiently, gelling well with Tohdoh.

The initial sketches of the Type-2/F19-Y as it was referred to showed a very different beast, short and squatty, seeming to lean on its front wheels in an attempt to suck air under the car. It would be much more aggressive in its handling patterns, with higher downforce but less stability. As Naoto had examined the blueprints, he had smiled. Sure, it was standard procedure, but at least standard procedure was now working for them. Knowing Kallen, she would absolutely love this new design.

However, Naoto, ever guarded, kept a close ear on things as Taizo continued "That leaves us on the question of a new driver. I think, in light of this new position we have, it's important I get your consultation. Who do you feel you would like to drive against?"

Kallen seemed to shift, which intrigued Naoto, who himself shifted to the side to get a better glimpse of her face, as he couldn't turn his head properly. After a moment, she finally spoke.

"The Franc, Lelouch Lamperouge."

Taizo raised an eyebrow, however Naoto bettered him with both brows extending vertically in something more akin to outrage than Taizo's amusement. This choice was certainly news to him, and sent him reeling.

What did this mean? He was hardly God's gift to racing, his limited results being borne of ridiculous strategies, and a clear record of poor racecraft. Not to mention Brazil 2015. Did she just want an easy teammate? That was certainly out of character. Were they close? Naoto couldn't imagine anything she could find appealing in the gremlin's smug, sarcastic personality. He could only hope Kallen still had her senses about her, and that he had not robbed her of them in some fashion he did not care to contemplate.

But as he looked back, he noted that Taizo was smiling, rather than grimacing at the prospect of hiring a driver without a significant track record. Clearly, there was something else going on, that he didn't quite understand. While he teased, he doubted there was anything of that nature occurring, particularly given both Kallen's and Lelouch's one track minds.

Perhaps that was why they got on better than Naoto expected. They both acted with great immediacy, cutting through what they saw as obstacles with great efficiency, chasing their dreams against all opposition with a ballsy, aggressive approach centred around taking shit from no one, and succeeding through an inner fury, whether hot, in Kallen's case, or cold, as in Lelouch's case. They were men and women of action. It seemed only natural they would form a bloc, so long as their interests were aligned. That probably explained how fiercely Lelouch had defended from Tohdoh, as he had likely seen, whether explicitly or implicitly, an opportunity to make it big in a big team.

Naoto was of two minds of this, as Kallen extolled Lelouch's virtues. Without his work at the last gasp, their situation would have been much worse. However, he remembered Brazil 2015 just as much as he did Brazil 2017, and had not forgiven him for the former even in spite of the latter. Naoto knew from 2015 that Lelouch would always look after himself above all other interests, and if he saw the most minute of possibilities to profit at your expense, you would find yourself screwed over by the devious Frenchman.

If it were earlier in the year, say around Monaco or Austria, he would have unquestionably taken her to task, explaining how much Lelouch was not to be trusted, and that she should exercise more caution in who she trusted. He had always looked after her, ensuring that as she progressed up the ranks of the sport that she wasn't deceived or distracted from risks that Naoto knew were ever present.

However, it was hardly as if he had been proven right of late. He had advised against taking on Taizo, and ultimately Kallen had proven more in tune with the times than he had. Perhaps, in this sphere, it would be best to allow her to do as she pleased. Clearly, she knew something he didn't.

It hurt like hell, acknowledging that she was now in a position where he wasn't qualified to ensure her safety and security. However, the last thing he would ever want to do would be to bring Kallen harm or hindrance, and faced the sudden realisation that he had to yield, leaving the issue be and trusting his sister had the better understanding here. He didn't trust Lelouch, but for the first time, he contained himself, and let the issue slide, as Taizo considered Kallen's suggestion.

"He did fairly well for himself in that miserable Ashford. That Ganymede was shocking, but he did pull out two fourths and a third. Held off Tohdoh as well. It wouldn't have been my first choice, but I can see this option working, particularly if you think it's the best way."

Kallen nodded, before continuing "We'll be racing equally and against one another to avoid what happened last year. This also means the team has to operate fairly with regards to part allocation, et cetera."

It was clear Taizo was less of a fan of this, however, once again not wanting to aggravate the talent, simply queried "How would that be guaranteed?"

"Easy, coin toss every time a new part comes in." Kallen replied. "It's no good beating him soundly if we don't have an equal start. There's no fun in that."

Taizo made a note of this, grimacing slightly however saying nothing as he scribbled this in. Shutting the notebook, he stated "That should do for now, we can sort things out from there. Enjoy yourself in America, though be sure to return for testing in Barcelona in a fit state to drive."

Kallen smirked, replying "I'll be sure to drive safely. I'll be expecting a good car when I return."

"I'm not brave enough to do otherwise, trust me. I just need you not to crash it. Can't win a championship that way."

* * *

"Can't win a championship if you're being outclassed by a driver out of your league either mind you, no matter how fast you say the car is."

"Awfully cruel of you to presume Kallen is out of my league C.C. We've never raced in the same car, and I beat her brother in GP3."

"On a technicality." she retorted, aiming a spatula at him pointedly with her free arm as she twisted at the knob dictating the temperature of the hob, which quietly boiled the cassoulet they were preparing under the heat of the Cote D'Azur.

"I mean, Kallen was beating you with five cylinders."

That was fair, Lelouch reckoned. Even after he picked up the pace following Kallen's command to Shift Set One, related through Shirley, he still was outmatched on lap times . He recalled his fight with Tohdoh, tooth and bared blade with such a sheer ferocity that at times it felt as if they would collide. Indeed, if they had then Kallen would have won against him, but he wasn't desperate enough for that. Instead, he became a mobile chicane, blocking with every ounce of defensive driving in his being to get his seat.

And he wasn't about to pass on the opportunity.

Lelouch shook his head as he oversaw the sausages which would end their lives within the dish as Rolo attempted to intermediate between the two opposing personalities.

"Let's not fight, guys." the younger teen softly pleaded. "Brother is simply saying we can't be presumptuous. We don't know what he could do in the new car."

"Please." C.C deadpanned in reply. "The only reason you're rated so decently is because you're teammates with Cardemonde, who can barely drive his finger into his ear. Kallen'd make mincemeat out of you, and then that's the end of your career."

She paused, before chuckling "Actually, that'd mean I can stop working for you, so in fact I take it back. Go forth, see what this gets you."

Not replying for a moment as he managed the grill, Lelouch replied "Second is better than… what was it, seventh, in the championship? The Gūren Type 2 Seiten, or whatever it is this year, plays for higher prizes."

"And what of Ashford?"

"Rivalz has a seat in Indycar pretty much guaranteed once his F1 career gives up the ghost, and the team will get better engines next year. They'll be fine. Heck, if I butter them up I might be able to get Rolo a seat, get him earning."

"Awfully cold way to be talking." C.C noted, as Rolo remained quiet, always unsure how to intervene when the two butted heads. "And what about Milly?"

Lelouch paused, and asked "Well what about her?"

"I imagine she's going to miss you sooo much." she teased, presenting an idea that Lelouch shook off.

"Sod off." came his reply, blunt in its presentation and pronunciation. "Even if that were the case, even if I thought she wanted to be friends, or whatever else, why would that change? The last time I made career decisions based on how she felt, I ended up naked but for a bit of loin cloth in a Hungarian football game for some harebrained advertising scheme."

"That Hungarian football gig kept you your seat when the team had next to no money and was partnering with a local sports magnate. It was that or bankruptcy, so she asked you to, and explained that there would be consequences if you refused."

Lelouch, now angry, pointed a finger at C.C and retorted "There's a word for that, it's blackmail. You know what our relationship was at the time. If it was just strictly professional, then that was illegal, and if it wasn't, it was certainly unhealthy."

"And yet you did it anyway."

Incredulous, the driver stuttered before replying "Because I cared about Nunnally! And Rolo!"

"You sound positively eager to prostrate yourself." she deadpanned in reply. "Why are you complaining?"

"Because…" Lelouch attempted, struggling to come up with more to justify himself, before waving the idea off and returning to his sausages. There was no point arguing with the hag, as she was at once perceptive and obtuse in an Socratic fashion, always poking with questions she knew the answers to.

"You still like her."

Lelouch didn't turn to reply, simply removing the sausages from the grill and dumping them into the pan. He wasn't sure if that was the case, but it didn't matter. Even if she hadn't breached his trust, and their relationship wasn't unhealthy, and he did genuinely want to be with her again, it still wouldn't have changed his mind. He couldn't make decisions like that, not with Nunnally on his ledger.

Besides, that extreme wasn't even the case. Until Milly grew up a great deal, he had no interest in pursuing that avenue in any capacity.

There was minimal talking as the final elements of the dish, a white bean casserole to all intents and purposes, were assembled and prepared, being served at just past six o'clock in sunlight and silence. Rolo and Lelouch, true gastronomists, tucked in with great delight, if little visible zeal, due to the frosty atmosphere. Once the meal had ended, Lelouch stood to clean, as C.C cleared her throat.

"So I assume I am to sign the Rebellion offer?"

"That is correct. Good day."

Not fazed by Lelouch's bluntness, C.C gave a curt nod before leaving, likely to engage in some manner of degeneracy before she returned to her office in the United Kingdom. Lelouch didn't care a great deal as he loaded the dishwasher. All he cared about was the seat, and more specifically the pay it provided for his siblings.

"Brother?"

Lelouch turned back to the elder of the two siblings, the gentle Rolo who was clearly put off by that sort of confrontation. It was an interesting phenomenon. In person, Rolo was retiring and shy, and extremely averse to controversy and conflict, however once he put on a helmet he grew horns, and was as ruthless as you like. It was the extent to every driver he had ever encountered, but it was much more pronounced with Rolo, who seemed to become a wholly different person behind the wheel, with shivs and dives coming at every corner.

The one exception to this universal rule was Lelouch himself, who was disagreeable both inside and outside the car. Nonetheless, Rolo was outside the car, and Lelouch had a soft spot for his brother and sister, and so Lelouch turned to see what Rolo's concern was, replying "What is it?"

He paused, before explaining "I just fear you are rushing for the pot of gold and ignoring the trap laid below it."

Lelouch leaned back against the table, opening up his torso and making him appear relaxed as he replied "Well what's the trap?"

"I don't know, but you always are thinking short term. Every time you make these decisions, you look at the short term gain and maximise that at the expense of long term stability."

Lelouch's nose wrinkled. He was indeed focused on what was best in the present moment, but he didn't view that as a problem. He could iron out those long term issues when they arrived. The one thing Lelouch could do well was think on his feet and negotiate problems quickly. For now, Nunnally's medical bills was the priority.

"Look, I'm looking after you. I'm making sure that I can get you a drive after GP3, and that the lights in Nunnally's hospital room turn on every morning. Now that she's undergoing surgery, that's more important than ever. I don't want you to be worrying about these sorts of things. Just trust me, I know what I'm doing."

* * *

 **Kept you waiting, huh?**

 **~Eth0**


	17. OK17 - Outdriven

**OK Number 17 - Outdriven**

* * *

There was a shout of "Best of luck!", or something to that effect, and undoubtedly several other words of encouragement that attempted to cross the garage towards Rivalz as he departed the pit lane, however much of these words were lost as the Californian driver floored the throttle out of the slot, accelerating out of the gap with an animal ferocity, depositing seams of rubber about the tar in parallel lines. The engines may not have either the technical credentials or the absolute performance as those Kallen drove for her day job, but for the life of her she could not say that these were anything other than the most spectacularly loud, dramatic, and quintessentially American in how they went about their pursuit of speed.

With speeds around the oval reaching two hundred miles per hour, beyond a Grand Prix car, Kallen did not disapprove of this approach, as she listened to the V8 build up to 12000 revolutions per minute around the track, as the seven hundred kilogram slingshot wound itself up, building momentum into the oval as it prepared for its qualifying run.

"Twenty pounds he beats you with this session!"

Kallen almost didn't hear Gino's proposal, such was the volume around the ovular colosseum, which internally refracted the roar as Rivalz began to swing back around to the pit straight, however she just about caught the offer, before roaring back "What's that in real money you pom?"

She could hear the arithmetic grind away in Gino's head, before he replied "About two thousand two hundred Yen and change!"

Kallen, leaning against the wall, gave the wager a moment's thought, before shouting back over the barrier to the Brit standing behind her "Done!"

As Gino chuckled, Kallen shook her head and could only think 'Now watch him go two seconds faster just to spite me...'

In spite of what may appear to have been a sour aside, more borne of an appreciation for irony than anything else, Kallen was thoroughly enjoying herself in America. Jet lag aside, everything about the buzz about the area suited her more boisterous approach down to the ground, and temperatures being a damn sight lower than Texas didn't hurt either. Since touching down and meeting with Rivalz and an inebriated Gino, her experience had been overwhelmingly positive, with Rivalz proving to be the most earnest human being on planet Earth, and Gino being a constant source of amusement.

Though Kallen doubted she was enjoying himself as much as Gino was, as no matter how much he cried at the royal wedding, Kallen retained a suspicion that he was a secret American, having a suspect appreciation for the finer elements of a half-pounder and speaking a few decibels louder than the person next to him. Not that Kallen minded; he kept pace with her, and was plenty capable of taking much of Kallen's ribbing, and returning it in rapid fire kind.

However, it was hard to hold a discussion, no matter how cutting, as Rivalz zoomed past, on the second of three warm up laps to build a rhythm, before his Qualifying run would begin. He would have three laps, over which his speed would be averaged giving him a Qualifying position.

"Don't bottle it Cardemonde, I've now got money on you."

Kallen, who caught the comment likely intended to remain beneath the breath of its agent, laughed, and replied "Who would win, Rivalz Cardemonde or four left handers? The world waits and watches."

"It could be worse, three right handers certainly stumped you fairly well."

Kallen winced as she caught the jab, moments before Rivalz streaked past, beginning his first lap into the banked corner, twisting at his wheel to arrest the cars sideways movement, settling it into the outermost lane to preserve as much speed as possible.

However, as impressive as his ability to preserve momentum was, Kallen still took objection to Gino's sly reference to the night before, where she had gotten lost driving them from the airport to the hotel, having spent three hours scurrying about Florida trying to track down their accommodation.

Indignant, Kallen replied "At least I could drive us, you were only standing upright by the skin of your teeth! You could hardly walk."

"I could have walked to the hotel faster than you drove us in all my drunkenness." he boasted in reply, as Rivalz, out of sight, chucked his car into the second corner, wrenching the car into the apex and allowing it to slew out wide on exit with almost all the speed preserved. In spite of this, Kallen was now invested in her conversation with Gino, and turned to answer his challenge.

"You fell asleep within sight of the hotel room you dope, a quick walk would have sent you out cold."

Gino laughed, and dismissed this rather devastating point with a humoured "There's no worries, you'd have given me a lift to the hotel anyway."

"Hah!" Kallen barked, immensely amused. "Awfully presumptuous of you. Leaving you behind would have done away with a good chunk of the competition for Sunday, now wouldn't it? I should have left you at the airport!"

"As if either of us could ever hope to stand up to Rivalz." Gino sardonically remarked, at once dismissive and cautioning. He seemed aware that Rivalz, who was one of the last to do a Qualifying run, had a grippier track with so much rubber now deposited on the racing line, meaning he could well steal a good starting position at the death of things. In any case, as the blue haired driver rounded the final bend, Gino continued "Eyes on the prize, he's coming back around."

Kallen turned back around to watch Rivalz sprint down the main straight, hurtling fiercely down the straight like an arrow, falling and falling towards the ground, finding its mark with enough velocity to puncture the air around them, the car literally booming past them on the finish line, sending a victorious echo through the drome.

That said, engine noise was no indicator of speed, and so the crowd pivoted towards the big screens who presented the laps average speed, which would determine his starting spot among the top nine.

"Two hundred and... one point two! That's... fifth! Provisional fifth but… That's higher than you!"

The blonde sitting behind Kallen began to laugh raucously, as the Japanese teen rolled her eyes and noted that it was "Higher than you as well, you dope."

Gino seemed to hint at a nod, before pointing a finger, and in a lawyerly spirit, mentioned that "There isn't two thousand Yen on my grid spot.", smugly escaping Kallen's retort.

She stared at him blankly, before replying blankly with a great suddenness "You think you're funny?"

"No, but everyone else seems to. You're hiding a fierce grin yourself."

Kallen recoiled, however just as she prepared to protest, she realised that she was indeed amused on some level by his Socratic faux-innocence, his falsetto, obfuscating words at once disingenuous and impressive in their audacity. Stunned, Kallen took a moment to reply, blushing as she thought up a response to counter him hastily.

"I... I'm simply pleased for the success of a friend! I'm just happy Rivalz is doing well. You on the other hand are simply profiteering, you filthy capitalist. Do you care at all for what is, and likely will remain the greatest achievement of Rivalz's racing career? For shame Gino. For shame."

It was off the cuff, and Gino was quick to jump on it, scoffing "His greatest achievement? What happens if he wins the race? Fifth is nothing to sneeze at on this grid."

Huffing, Kallen sighed "I've learned to not make bets, if nothing else.", shaking her head as Rivalz eased the car down, slowly winding down his speed. Gino and Kallen sat in the sun, letting off steam as they waited for Rivalz's return, something a now grumpy Kallen was suddenly a lot less eager to meet. Smug, Gino noted "I'm glad to have provided this anti gambling PSA. Truly, who says I'm a bad influence?"

"I am not going to dignify that question with a response."

Gino laughed, as Kallen continued "Moreover, if we're talking about who the faster one of us is, at least I beat my teammate last year."

The Brit winced, visibly shook by that aside, before feigning injury, and replying with crocodile tears "Harsh."

"Live by the sword, die by the sword."

* * *

"How much did you say you owed Gino?"

"Do not fucking speak to me."

Kallen's snap was uttered in far more jest than both the words and the tone implied, her voice having dropped an exasperated octave and adopted a more tired note. Meanwhile, Lelouch, ever blithe, laughed at this and planted himself on the sofa next to her, only pausing briefly to holler over the buzz of the gathering for a refill of his drink.

"I still…" Kallen chuckled, as she finished her whiskey, gripping the neck of the bottle by its top and letting the mass hang below her wrist detachedly, "...cannot believe that that dumbass somehow won the goddamn Daytona 500… Starting fifth, and gets the fucking mother of all starts..."

"You're telling me…" Lelouch chuckled, one hand extended into the invisible distance to reach for a glass of champagne, returned by a waiter of saintly patience. "I may have had some competition in my team this year if I hadn't jumped ship."

"I certainly hope that wasn't your intention for leaving me all alone Lelouch." entered the familiar lofty voice of Rivalz Cardemonde, affected with an even taller pitch that seemed to mock any idea of genuine grievance. "I'm just now getting into gear, and you run? Poor show."

"It's called moving up in the world Rivalz, you should try it at some point."

"I suppose, although moving up to the top step of Daytona sated me somewhat."

Kallen turned to finally look back at Rivalz, who was conducting his end of the conversation from some ways behind them, craning her neck to catch a glimpse. He was dressed quite well for what was a pre-race weekend party, with the drivers having decided to relax a bit before trying to cut one another up on track for the first race of the year in Australia. Pre-season testing had come and gone, with the Rebellion car looking seriously competitive, if somewhat unbalanced, with a propensity for massive lateral instability under transitions into mechanical load.

Outside engineering circles, massive lateral instability can be described as a tendency to spin a lot. However, Kallen at the very least had been buoyed by the teams one lap pace no matter the consistency. The Rosenberg had had significant aerodynamic upgrades, and had been solid as a rock. Unfortunately for Rivalz, whom Kallen realised she had been spent an unfortunate amount of time staring at in her distraction, the Ashford car had not made considerable progress, and had been liable to experience sudden unexplained wing stall in testing.

However, this was not Kallen's primary concern with regards to Rivalz at this present moment.

"You've still got that bloody smug smile on your face three bloody weeks later."

Rivalz shrugged, before laughing "It's the one thing I'm likely to get over you, you bet your ass I'm not letting go of this, with you or Gino. No matter how many championships ye get, you'll never live down being beaten at Daytona by Rivalz Cardemonde."

"Ach, don't be like that Rivalz."

This interjection came from across the bar, with Gino Weinberg inserting himself headlong into the discussion having heard the tail end of Rivalz' self-deprecating joke. Marching across the room with legs longer than the Great Wall of China, he maneuvered himself up and over a table and chairs between himself and the conversation of interest before sitting opposite Kallen and Lelouch, which finally forced Rivalz to move forward past Kallen's couch and join what had become a makeshift circle. Satisfied he had sucked all the oxygen out of the discussion, Gino began his anticipated opine.

"You beat me as well, and over five hundred miles of tarmac that isn't an accident. Don't beat yourself up man, you kicked ass. You don't have to make it a punchline."

"Yeah, yeah." Rivalz chuckled, waving dismissively before Gino underlined the point with some gravity injected into his voice, emphasising "I don't want to be hearing any more of that from you."

"Yes dad..."

This understated wit sent the whole group into a fit of laughter, as Gino, in what Kallen could only take to be a credit to him, adopted the moniker with a jovial pride. It was entirely typical of Gino to be a bit overbearing, but Kallen was quite impressed by the man's wholesome streak, which was rare in such a competitive profession. It was particularly noteworthy given that, as Lelouch was now just pointing out, the new regulations had been distinctly unkind to the Camelot chassis, which had forced them to expand their midsection in a way which made the car immensely soft and draggy.

"I may want to get used to finishing behind Rivalz, unless you've turned the car around since winter testing, eh?"

Gino's cheeks inflated, before he breathed out softly to communicate his masked frustration, mostly put on for show, amusing the panel, all of whom were used to chasing down the dominant Camelots and eager to milk in the Schadenfreude.

"It's been an interesting winter." he admitted, before continuing "I think we may want to take a breather year, not sure we're going to get the top prize this year."

"A breather year?" Kallen laughed incredulously. "What, is the team going on a sabbatical? Are ye on a gap year?"

"Is Camelot just taking a one year company retreat?" Lelouch contributed, before looking both ways and whispering "Can I join?"

This was well received, and there was a pause for raucous laughter and the consumption of alcohol. All present in the lounge were drivers, and while all were partial to one form of drink or another, all were required to drive in Free Practice the next morning, and so as Kallen finished her bottle of whiskey on her third gulp, she lamented her inability to ask for a refill. Lelouch, on his second of two glasses, was taking his time, clearly eager to make his supply last, while Gino had finished his allocation hours ago. However, as Kallen, in her moment of pause, surveyed the crowd, both near and afar, she noticed there was one notable absence.

"Where in the world is Kururugi?"

This clearly amused Lelouch, who explained "The guy has a professionalism fetish. He's probably getting a good nights sleep before practice, he always hated late night social events. It's a shame, because he's great craic once he lets his hair down, but he sets a high standard on himself."

As Kallen mulled over this information, Lelouch looked briefly pensive, before asking to the room at large "Who's Suzaku's new teammate again? Odysseus retired, who'd they drag in?"

Rivalz shook his head, before laughing "Typical of you to forget anyone outside your little bubble. It's Marrybel Glinda, the lass who won GP2 after Kallen ran off in the early part of the season."

Nodding, Lelouch continued without a beat "Oi, Glinda, where are you? Glinda? Need to ask you something."

It was not at all subtle, but it was past midnight and Kallen suspected all of their respective capacities for subtlety were fading. It certainly achieved its objectives, with the surly Canadian eventually wandering over to the canal that had formed in the center of the room, albeit with no degree of urgency, before asking "T'was it you wanted?"

Kallen was unsure where Lelouch was taking this, however all was made plain when he asked "What is your comrade Suzaku doing with himself on this fine evening?"

Huffing, the Canuck responded "Burying himself under the car; he wasn't happy with the setup, and was playing around with the anti-roll bars when I left. Haven't heard news since ten, and he was still there."

"Whew…" Lelouch chuckled. "He'll go full kadōshi in a few years, that's intense."

The joke was dark, and not as well received; indeed, its only saving grace was how close a friendship Lelouch and Suzaku were known to have. If they had not had that repertoire, the slight souring of the mood may have been more severe. Feeling some obligation to bail her teammate out, she asked "Has he always been this industrious?"

Lelouch nodded, explaining "He's got something of a complex it has to be said. Always feels he needs to work harder to keep up with the curve, even though he's got plenty of natural pace."

While Kallen could agree to this based on her experience, Lelouch paused unnaturally, as if contemplating adding more, before he seemed to decide against it. Curious, Kallen let it be, but made sure to follow up later. Over the rest of the evening, Gino continued to bring significant levity, which contrasted well with Lelouch's more cutting style of humour and made the evening significantly more enjoyable once the whiskey ran dry. Rivalz at one point asked about Nunnally's surgery, which caused Lelouch to brighten considerably.

"Oh, yeah! She's not quite able to see yet, but we're knocking on the door. A few weeks, and she'll be able to come and see the races!"

"And be disappointed in sight as well as sound."

"Sod off Rivalz."

It was meant in jest, and proceedings continued much in the same vein until the wee hours of Friday morning. However, once the drivers began to turn in, Kallen made sure to pursue Lelouch out the door, as he began the short walk across Melbourne to the hotel, booked out en masse by the team. The night was chilly, with the clear Australian sky retaining little atmospheric heat. The sky was vivid, filled with millions of stars that lit up the scene as they walked out of Albert Park. Eager to make use of their privacy, Kallen asked from behind "Hey, Lelouch, do you have a minute?"

Lelouch kept walking, not bothering to turn his head, but he responded "Is it about Suzaku?"

Kallen blinked, before chuckling. Typical of Lelouch to try and stay one step ahead, almost able to read minds. Shaking her head, she replied "Indeed. You stopped yourself in the middle of the sentence. I get that he's your friend, strange as that seems even now, as different as ye are, but what was it you were going to say?"

Lelouch stopped walking, hands sat in his pockets, before taking in a deep breath. Still faced away from her, she saw the cold vapour of his breath rise up above the top of his head, leaned back and up. He took a moment, before beginning.

"You know, Suzaku and I met long before Formula Renault. His father was the Japanese ambassador to France, lived a fairly affluent life in the south. He went to my school. We couldn't stand each other- he actually beat me up about a week after we'd first met. Thing is, as we soon discovered, we had one fairly significant thing in common."

"Motorsports."

Kallen saw the back of Lelouch's head nod in response. "Thing is, for all that can be said about my family kicking us out, Suzaku hasn't had the nicest time of it either. He's certainly never been bereft of money, but his father had been perpetually disappointed in his sons lack of interest in so called serious subjects."

"Had?"

"Genbu Kururugi passed away when he was fourteen. It did quite a bit to him. He still feels the need to prove himself, to justify his career choice, to make the whole endeavour worth everything he's put himself and his father through. He's gotten better. He helped me out when my siblings and I were homeless, and I've helped him get through tough times in his life. He's got a fierce driving force in his belly, and is more consistent than the tides."

Lelouch finally turned back to Kallen with a dark look.

"The Rosenberg is within touching distance of us, if Winter Testing is anything to go by. If you want to take him on over the course of a season, you're going to need to find out why you drive. Head to head…"

He sighed, before turning back away.

"I can only wish you luck."

* * *

 **~Eth0**


	18. OK18 - V for Victory

OK Number 18 - V for Victory

* * *

"A...and as we begin the third session of Qualifying, yes, the green lights at the end of the pit lane are on, we can confirm it will be a wet session, with large amounts of standing water visible out of the last corner from what we can see in the commentators booth. In this session we have the top ten drivers from the end of Q2, with Kōzuki, Lamperouge, Kururugi, Marrybel Glinda debuting alongside her teammate in the Rosenberg, Weinberg alongside his new teammate Kewell Soresi, an Australian by birth and enjoying a lot of local support, Nu, Bradley, Xingke and Xianglin competing in this session to see who will be on pole position for tomorrow's Australian Grand Prix. Joining you for the next ten minutes will be my colleague Jeremiah Gottwald and myself, Diethard Reid."

"We will indeed, and one thing to note is how simply miserable this weather is. Very much un-Australian, it's raining cats and dogs, with everyone but the two Lancers on the full wet tyres, with those two on the intermediate tyres."

"Very interesting, particularly as the radar indicates that the conditions are to improve over time. Perhaps they will come into their own by the end of the session, but it's still quite early, given the standing water."

Jeremiah paused, leaning back in the chair as the cars gingerly trotted out into the tarmac. It had been a long winter, and he had missed his cosy hobby of commentating on the fastest circus in the world. He was paid for it, but it wasn't work, not in the least.

As he had indicated, the field had changed since the end of last year. Lelouch Lamperouge replaced Kyoshiro Tohdoh at Rebellion, reigning GP2 champion Marrybel Glinda debuted in the seat left open by the retiring Cornelia McGlynn, who was joined at grass by her less successful brother Odysseus, whose seat at Rosenberg was filled by the Camelot test driver Kewell Soresi. Interestingly, every rookie made Q3, which certainly filled Jeremiah with some hope that the future lay in more skilled hands than Shinichiro Tamaki.

Of course, Diethard noted that it was hardly as if the present was left wanting, as Suzaku Kururugi led the grid out through the country, visibly building up confidence to his feet and heat to his tyres, as their job to commentate resumed.

"You can see Villetta Nu on your screens now going through the middle sector, a high speed sweeper dropping into a fast chicane, and you're going to need a lot of grip to make it through there with speed, these long corners are where Nu and Bradley are gonna have trouble on those lower clearance tyres. You can see there, she's just taking it nice and steady on this warm up lap, not too much twitching or movement. Everyone's just trying to see where the grip is, where the water is, and all of this may play into the hands of the woman the camera has just cut to here, Kallen Kōzuki."

The low angle made the car look aggressive, though this was not a difficult task; the car sat on its haunches like a tiger ready to pounce, and hopped about the place as if unleashing that pent up energy. The munsell helmet sat aloft from the pillars, willowing and rocking about the place as the driver held the car in line with all her power, single minded and focused. You could almost see her eyes through the dark visor, narrowed, fierce and angry. It was a stunning image, however it was ephemeral, passing on as Kallen shot through the rain, squirming for grip, graceful by virtue of its furious gracelessness. Moved, Jeremiah returned to commentary.

"The all-new F19-Y Rebellion has brought out isn't the smoothest machine in the factory, but Kallen knows how to find grip in these greasy conditions, and, lets not forget, she loves Qualifying. All the way back to F4 and GP3, she has always had a better time finding speed over one mad lap than being consistent over a session, which could do her some good here in what are rather treacherous conditions."

"The other man who'll look to do well is just crossing the line now, beginning his flying lap is Suzaku Kururugi." Diethard noted. "He isn't as much of a qualifier as he is a racer, but he can drive a car smoother than silk, which in these conditions- could that give him the edge? Let's see, as Lelouch, positioned between the two Japanese drivers, begins his lap now, a few seconds ahead of Kallen."

"Now here's Suzaku, already out of the turn 4 chicane, and he's purple to the first sector, he's the fastest through there so far, even as he runs up onto the exit kerb, he won't be pleased with that at all, as Lelouch now enters-"

"Sorry to interrupt you there Diethard, but both Nu and Bradley have stayed out on the Intermediate tyre, they think they have the weather conditions on their side, so we may get a more direct comparison now between the two tyres in this weather. After all, this is the first time these wet tyres have seen use all weekend, so it will be a learning curve as we see some Kewell Soresi fans making it across the out in spite of the conditions to watch the local hero."

As Jeremiah had mentioned, the Australian fans were ecstatic to see the local driver pass by, before realizing they were on camera and giving a more spirited display of flag waving and excitement for the benefit of the viewers.

Chuckling, Diethard took up the commentary, explaining "So now, here comes Suzaku around into the deceptive turn 13, coming out of the second sector. He's the first to set a time, being the first one out, though interestingly his first sector has already been beaten by one Li Xingke, also out on the wet tyres, in the Geely would you believe, but that does show that the track is getting drier, and the last person to set a time will have a little bit of an advantage in this first run, but there is time enough for two runs, so the teams will be watching carefully, watching the temperature, watching the rain, watching the tyres, and watching- wew, goodness, pardon me, watching Luciano Bradley lose the back end out of turn 10."

It was sudden and yet expected, with the rear wheels visibly spinning up through fourth and fifth gear, before eventually parting ways with the concept of traction entirely, sliding out to the side away from the corner. Only strong countersteer kept him out of Australia's notorious Armco barriers.

"That was a big moment from the ginger, we can see on the replay his rear just steps out and he nearly swaps ends in the middle of the high speed corner." Diethard explained. "I can imagine he may want a change of underwear after that, that was inches away from disaster."

"He may have been a bit too ambitious in using those Intermediate tyres this early in the session but it is getting drier and the times will come tumbling down over the next five minutes, so we can expect an exciting climax, can't we?" Jeremiah noted, eager for a showdown. "In any case, here comes Suzaku Kururugi through the last bend, where he crashed out of Qualifying two years ago on his final run did you know, up to the line and he opens the account with a one minute forty point eight! That's a solid time, particularly in these conditions, as Lelouch, who's also on a lap now, comes up to the line and posts a one forty-one dead, not quite as fast as the man in the Rosenberg but a respectable time."

"Now, where's Kallen?" Diethard shouted out, audibly building up the hype. "She should be coming up to the line, but there's a lot of spray, so I'm not quite- ah, there she is, and she posts a…. one forty point six, two tenths up on Kururugi's time, putting her teammate down to third and seizing provisional pole position for her own. Great lap!"

By this point Suzaku, who had continued going round on the Wet tyres with his car apparently fuelled up for two laps rather than one do-or-die flier, and, as Diethard's colleague was sift to note, he was finding pace.

"He's three tenths up in the first sector split Diethard, wow! That's a lot of time found."

It definitely showed, as the camera shot rode onboard with Suzaku. In wet conditions, a lack of grip often forced drivers to squirm at the wheel, rocking it about to keep the rear end from sliding out, but a gentle use of the throttle and a smooth approach meant that Suzaku had none of these difficulties; he drove the car like a knife cleaving through butter, his simple, graceful style ensuring he lost no time in the traction zones, as he carved his way through the water. As he rounded out the lap, he had found another four tenths in supple braking and drying lines. However, the serenity of the drive was interrupted by team radio from Lelouch, played aloud in the commentary booth.

"Talk to us about the conditions Lelouch, is it time for inters? Is the track ready for it?"

Sounding out of breath, the Provencal driver replied "It will be at the end of the session, yeah.", to which Diethard noted "So, it'll be a close decision. We're approaching the crossover point where the two tyres give similar grip levels, so at this point it's anyone's guess-"

"Suzaku's coming in, Suzaku's coming in Diethard! Look! He's bailed on this lap even though he was so far up on his first time, he's committing to the intermediate tyres!"

With a minute-forty for a lap, and the necessity to fuel the car in the pits, there was no chance for Suzaku to reverse his decision now. Even if he botched his lap and rushed back, he wouldn't get a second chance at a lap. Diethard looked to see who would join him.

"Lelouch… has not joined him! He stays out! Fascinating, that the one who called the weather has not followed through. Perhaps it was a bluff- hang on, team radio…"

"Kallen, pit for Inters, we will have one lap to set a time after rotation."

"That confirms it." Jeremiah observed, continuing "This looks to be a straight showdown between Suzaku and Kallen, unless Lelouch can keep his tyres in their heat bracket and the others have trouble with the track being too wet. There's definitely a mixture of strategies at play, as Suzaku slots into his pit box."

The team was not under as much time pressure as during the race, and yet in spite of that the Rosenberg was only stationary for five seconds, rolling out of the hands of the mechanics who swapped out the almost-fresh tyres and topped up his fuel reserves. With that complete, he was away.

No sooner than he had left the pits did Kallen enter, similarly wheeling the car into the outlined rectangle surrounded by eager team personnel, who completed their work with great zeal, getting Kallen out onto the streets of Albert Park. With regards to the people fighting for pole, she was still behind Suzaku and Lelouch on track, who had swapped places such that the Frenchman would cross the line at the end of the session first. As the countdown clock struck zero, this would be everyone's final lap, and with a drying track, it would be a bonanza of quick times.

"Alright now, we're looking over the finish line. Around the final corner comes the Geely of Xiangling, goes fifth fastest, an improvement of half a second. Everyone's finding time more and more, as Nu crosses the line to take fifth for herself! Shortly after her, here's Bradley, who moves up from ninth to fourth with that time! It's a frenzy!"

However, the big players were still out on their laps. Lelouch, with the track position, stormed into view, solid as a rock. The wet tyres were likely hotter than the surface of the sun, but they were giving him stability, which could well, in Diethard's estimation, make the difference.

"I'm not sure if he'll have the speed, due to rolling resistance, but he is stable, as he comes out of the last corner, the car looks super comfortable, but will it be enough, as he runs up to the line, to perhaps move up- oh, oh he's gone fastest! He's set a one thirty nine eight, moving up to the top of the timesheets! Mega lap, and now the pressure is on the two Japanese drivers to catch his new standard."

The camera cut to Suzaku, next in the queue of drivers on a hot lap, and the difference was pronounced. In spite of Suzaku's natural inclination towards smooth driving, one can only fight the laws of physics so much, and the man who had crashed two years ago was visibly struggling to keep the rear wheels in check, with the steering wheel oscillating under his frequent adaptations to the shifting tarmac and conditions. As he rounded the last corner, the stands stood to watch him on the sprint to the line.

"And here we go, up to the line, what can Suzaku do? He's got it all to do, as the other new times have dropped him down to seventh, but if anyone can, it's Suzaku Kururugi, who… also goes fastest! He has gone the fastest out of anyone!"

The Rosenberg garage erupted into celebration, mechanics leaping for joy and hugging one another. Their driver had stolen the top spot by half a second, a time that would be tough to beat.

"Indeed Jeremiah, he's snatched provisional pole from Lelouch Lamperouge, but what now can Kallen Kōzuki do, as we ride onboard with her through the last sector, and she is absolutely not stable, she is on maximum attack, leaving nothing on the table as she brakes into turn 13 and- oh goodness, she has a massive dose of oversteer, and skids the car over the kerb, trail braking, she is absolutely on the ragged edge, but that isn't necessarily faster. Watch the car slide out onto the exit kerb, now go, go go! She rockets towards the final chicane, wow, look at that instability, twitching this way and that, it looks like it's about to fall off the tarmac, but she just keeps it together, she just keeps it in line, and as she runs up to the line, she's definitely left nothing on the table, but we can only wait and see, as she crosses the line… and grabs pole! Kallen Kōzuki has pole position for the Australian Grand Prix! She found another gear, and has the ideal spot for tomorrow's Grand Prix!"

* * *

"And that overtake means that Suzaku Kururugi will return to his qualifying position of second, after his disastrous pit stop which allowed Lelouch to get ahead, which will be some joy to the man who has done nothing wrong today, he will come home second, but in spite of this he will not have the time to catch up with the woman in first, who is now coming round to complete her penultimate lap, Kallen Kōzuki, who has led this race from pole position. Setting the fastest lap of the race as she crosses the line for the second to last time, she has been on it since lap one. Some other drivers may ease off towards the end of a Grand Prix where they have a solid lead, but Kallen has not backed down from full tilt since the race started, and she's built up a lead of over thirty seconds as she piles into turn one, shooting the car towards the outside kerb as it turns to the inside, absolutely on it. You'd think she'd want to soak in what is a mighty accomplishment, and what a statement! Kallen has come to fight, and has simply dominated this Grand Prix. But no, she's still going flat out, setting the fastest first sector of anyone on track as Suzaku only now crosses the line. The man has run a perfect race, but even so, the time lost in the pits and in battles has meant that, now as his countrywoman is going through the country at the chicane of nine and ten, he is just now beginning his last lap. He's likely lifting off a bit to save the engine, but one person who is absolutely not lifting off in the slightest, one person who has driven at the limit for the last sixty laps, is Kallen Kōzuki, who with only a few corners to go, is visibly on the limits of grip, on the limits of her tires, never off it for a second, and for that, will be rewarded with a standing ovation, a grandstand of cheer, as for the third time in her career, Kallen Kōzuki rounds the final corner to win the Australian Grand Prix in spectacular fashion! If that's not a brilliant way to start off the season, I don't know what is! Haha, yes, team radio-"

"Yeeess! Great drive Kallen, great drive, absolutely dominant! You did it! That's the right way to start off the season. We're back in business, haha! Lelouch P3, split by Suzaku, a couple of postcodes behind. Top class!"

"Victory! Victory! Hahaha, yes! So proud of all of you! So proud… we had a lot of change, we had a lot of challenges, but you've delivered one hell of a machine! Whoo! Hah hah. We own these roads! This team has grown. You should be proud of yourselves. Well done."

"Very good, ahaha. Cool down, pick up rubber, and bring her in. Oshiyoseru Kōzuki!"

"Aaah… Lord I'm drained… well done again, and thank you!"

Kallen was indeed exhausted, having thrown everything and more at that drive. She had fallen into a trance, with the driving being almost secondary as she flew across the circuit almost on rails. It was a dream Grand Prix, and a dream start to the season. Sweating and exhausted, she raised a victorious fist out of the cockpit as she brought the car down the gears gently, not wanting to unwind her muscular momentum too quickly, to trigger the muscle memory of the leg and arm movements of high speed driving developed over the last hour and a half of blisteringly fast driving. She had to wean herself off the sensation of speed.

But, empty as she was, she did return to the pits, rolling the car into the number one position, and sitting there, hardly able to drag herself out of the car. It felt like eight hits of cocaine, as she shook from both adrenaline and a physical hollowness, her breath shaky and her arms weak.

Suzaku by contrast was out of his car within moments, removing his helmet and HANS device from around his neck swiftly before ripping off his balaclava and uncovering his face. As Kallen clambered out from the bowels of her cars womb, she saw his face and was quite shocked to see he was as cool as a cucumber, with not a drop of sweat on him. The race had not taken an ounce out of him.

However, for as remarkable as his endurance was, this had not been an endurance race, and in spite of her physical strain, she had won, and won well. Mustering herself, she rose up, clambering onto the nose of her car. Her thighs were in bits, and she was running on fumes, but with adrenaline pumping through her, she hunched over and pumped her fists victoriously, joyously basking in this moment, before leaping off and running towards the fence where her team was gathered, pressing against the wire with joy. Jumping into the barrier, she felt the tips of their fingers grasp at her as they tried to pull her into their collective hug of joy.

As Kallen celebrated, Jeremiah Gottwald, who had sprinted down from the commentary box to grab an interview, decided discretion was the better part of valour and elected to interview the second placed man instead. As Kallen was released from the scrum, she turned to see and to hear the reactions of an entirely unfussed Suzaku.

"Suzaku, hard luck mate. It seems Kozuki just had the pace today, mm?"

Suzaku nodded, but lightly, explaining "It's unfortunate, but after Kallen pulled away and Lelouch got me off the line in the first stint, we didn't want to compromise our race and elected to protect the engine, the fuel, and the car. We were able to come back with the saved fuel in the last stint to retake second, but we did a good job with damage limitation. We didn't have it here, but our strengths lie elsewhere. No point panicking"

"That's the spirit." Jeremiah chuckled. "Good lad. Now, our race winner, ladies and gentlemen, Kallen Kozuki!"

There are moments that become iconic in sports, through the genius of cameramen and emotional context. Cornelia had been immortalised in the famed image of her passing Jeremiah Gottwald on the outside of 130R in her debut season, Li Xingke had similarly been captured in a joyous moment of celebration after winning the twenty four hours of Le Mans in 2013, and of course the enduring image of Jim Clark drifting his Lotus, reproduced for what was no over half a century. As Kallen heard her name shouted out, she had no way of knowing that as she threw her last ounce of energy into hurling her arm up above her head and forming her index and middle fingers into a vee, like a peace sign, that she was creating an enduring image of victory.

* * *

 **I feel like I need to say something, particularly as I reread this chapter; Kallen is not OP. She is quick, and has natural talent, but dominating one race doesn't mean that she has an unfair advantage, or is being written in a way where this season will not be challenging. This is setting up a good expectation, as well as demonstrating the skill of the woman who was canonically tied for the universes best pilot. This fic is not attempting to jerk any character, and this success will not last once Suzaku's skillset comes knocking.**

 **~Eth0**


	19. OK19 - Under Pressure

**OK Number 19 - Under Pressure**

* * *

The view out of the cockpit of a Formula One car, Kallen had long decided, was really a bit rubbish. Even as she sat at her grid slot in her second consecutive Pole position for the Bahrain Grand Prix, she noted that she could only just about see the top edge of her tyres, and nothing at all of the nose of the car. This design was dictated by the need for aerodynamic efficiency, but it didn't do her spatial awareness much good. Of course, it wasn't as if she didn't have a sixth sense for placing the car in a tricky situation, but it was certainly disquieting.

However, in light of her Qualifying, placed at the front of the grid with Suzaku in second and Marrybel in third, she felt that that really wasn't the end of the world as she watched the set of lights above her tick up to four, to five red lights, which held in their illumination, until, after an age, they blinked, and Kallen dropped the clutch into oblivion and let the engine thrust her into another dimension. Punched in the gut by the force of acceleration, she let the engine pull like a train up into second, into third, and then up to the limiter. The torque the turbocharger delivered was physically devastating, driving her into her seat on the run down to the first corner. Even at the top end, the torque curve ran up into the horizon, the engine never running out of puff even as Kallen saw the first corner fly into view. Taking care to watch her mirrors for an ambitious challenge up the inside, she leaned into the front tyres, slowing the car smoothly while managing the shifting weight of the car into the first corner, the rear tyres gradually losing grip as weight came off them and Kallen turned in, leaving the car susceptible to spinning.

However, she kept the rear in line, holding position into the first corner, with Suzaku taking a conservative tack, happy to fall in line behind Kallen as the grid moved into the meat of the first sector, spearing into the inky blackness of the Sakhir night. Turn four was another harsh braking zone, with Kallen again loading the full weight of the car onto its tiptoes under braking, chucking the car towards the apex with as much speed as she could get away with, with the car slewing out towards the outside kerb before Kallen shot it into the horizon. Once again examining her mirrors, she watched Suzaku get out of the braking early, freewheeling the car on entry to the corner and saving his energy while keeping Kallen in touching distance.

Gritting her teeth as she stormed into the high downforce five-six-seven complex, she determined that she would build a gap to the threat behind her, and so chucked the car at the limits of the track with all the bravery she could muster. Apex, edge, apex, edge, just miss the apex, and then take care to not lock up into ten, hopping about the circuit to explore the texture of the tarmac and find that patch that her tyres could rebound off like a cruelly vicious kickstart.

Each corner involved great deals of energy conversion, rapidly transferring momentum into heat energy through the tyres and brakes, conducting all available power through her left foot to halt her runaway train so that she could only just about make the next corner, where the front tyres would haul the car towards a new bearing, holding the force of the cars movement in the depths of their rubber and leaning it into the bows and swoops of the Sakhir circuits third sector. The front end was grip loaded, the rear end was grip loaded, and Kallen had found another gear, pushing the car to the technical limits of what was possible to escape the clutches of Suzaku Kururugi.

Naturally, with this came rapid lap times, as she set the fastest lap of the race several times over the course of the first phase of the race. Kallen beamed with pride from behind her helmet as she looked at the blinking information displayed on her steering wheel indicating that by lap seven of this mentally demanding surge, requiring total focus, that she had built a three second gap to Suzaku, who had performed consistently slower, though was reportedly at far greater ease in his drive.

This was not of great surprise to Kallen, recalling Australia, but what did surprise her was a heavy lock up of her tyres under braking into the first corner. The wheel stuck, rotating less than the distance travelled and dragging against the tarmac. Kallen, sensing the underrotation, hurried with a feathering movement, feeling out the resolution with the tips of her toes, finally recovering the pull and making the corner with no room to spare.

However, Kallen's extremeties were now communicating several other issues, as Kallen accelerated out of the sharp bend and felt the tyres sudden reluctance to soak up the energy transmitted through the drivetrain and sink it into the grey road. As she explored the state of the first sector, scanning with the rubber, she consistently found degrading grip, no bite, and an increasingly large Rosenberg in her rear view. Frustrated, Kallen chucked the car into the hairpin before the back straight, only to be rewarded with a four wheel drift that pitched the cars suspension onto the two outside wheels, which offered no lateral resistance as the car slid out, almost completely skipping over the outside kerb. Now seriously worried, Kallen called out over the radio "What's going on? I've lost grip!"

Ohgi was not long in replying, exasperatedly "Tyre temperatures are through the roof, your tyres have overheated, thy can't take in any more energy. Take it way easier and let them cool."

This was awful news. Not only was she unable to keep pushing, not only did she have to wait for the tyres to cool, but they would also wear much faster while overheated, and Suzaku, who drove with the grace of a saint and the consistency of a production line, was now in a prime position to pounce. Kallen was vulnerable, which was not a position she was at all comfortable with. It was not a countenancable situation, and she would not remain in it if she had anything to say about it.

"I'm coming in, boxing for Hard tyres, be ready on this lap!"

Better to be off these tyres and able to push on new ones than limping about waiting for them to cool. She would lose time in the pits, but Bahrain was an easy one-stop, and so everyone else would also have to pit. They would be able to go longer and strap on Medium tyres to be faster towards the end, but that was unavoidable at this point. Kallen had to act now and with decisiveness, and, taking the initiative, got off these boiling tyres within the lap, with the crew surgically replacing them like a well oiled machine even in spite of the short notice, but she imagined they were used to her spontaneous way of doing things. No point fretting; Kallen was a woman of action, and couldn't waste time on such matters. There was a value in swift decision making.

The one upside was that harder tyres conducted less heat and were less unstable in its heat characteristics, which meant that while they took a while to get up to a working temperature, they would take far longer to go above and beyond that. As she finally left the pit after an agonising wait at the pit lane speed limit, she flicked off the switch, and rejoined the race in fourteenth, being the first to pit and so out of place on track. Once all the drivers took a pit stop, she would be leapfrogged back up to Suzaku. However, there was a problem that was not immediately obvious until she caught up to the back of Claudio Darlton, driving the family owned B.A.R, and came up to overtake the slower car. She came within reach of the Sheffield native into the high speed five-six-seven series of corners, where the cars aerodynamics were required to press the car into the road and allow them to sling through at speeds exceeding a hundred and fifty miles per hour. Such was the grip and downforce required to navigate this section at speed that there was only one line through this section, otherwise one would spear off the track and into a barrier.

However, what this meant for Kallen was that as she followed Claudio, whose car lacked the aerodynamic efficiency of the Rebellion, she was forced to sit behind him at a significantly slowed pace, with an overtake being a physical impossibility, until they moved past the section and entered a region of straight track and slower corners, where Kallen's fresh tyres and stiff chassis allowed her to stick her nose up the inside and take the position. She had lost almost two seconds stuck behind Claudio, time that Suzaku, without traffic ahead for being in the lead of the race, was emphatically not losing relative to her.

And Kallen was not the least bit pleased about this fact.

Determined to make up for this lost time and give her a shot of keeping Suzaku in her sights once he pitted later in the race, she put the hammer down, amping up the fuel flow and mixture to burn as much as possible in pursuit of this goal. Taking a satisfying blitz through the apexes that flew by over the next few laps, she cut her teeth on the apexes and began to catch up to a pair of cars, the other BAR driven by Claudio's brother Alfred Darlton, and the Ashford of Rivalz Cardemonde, in the heat of battle as Kallen came up behind them like a rising storm. As she came up towards their diffusers, she watched Rivalz, likely buoyed from his personal renaissance since Indianapolis, take to the outside of Alfred into turn nine, and cutting in on the braking zone in turn ten, sweeping around him and pulling level on the exit, allowing him to try and out-drag Alfred on the back straight.

And while the battle was great to watch unfold, battling and compromising your lines to overtake slow you dramatically, as Kallen knew from being caught by Lelouch in Monaco while fighting Tohdoh. If Kallen didn't get past soon, this roadblock would slow her pace to theirs, which was some ways behind Suzaku's.

As Alfred and Rivalz scuttled down the straight, Kallen sat in their slipstream and attempted to move to the inside with the slingshot of momentum, however Alfred, who was on the inside of Rivalz, cut across her nose and seized the apex, forcing Kallen to brake to avoid running into his side, locking up and only just missing him. Pulling around, she could only grimace as the two drivers pulled away with much better exit drive due to her own compromised entry. There was another second and a half lost for nothing, and as she caught up in the second phase of the exit into twelve and thirteen, with their new, powerful engine Yggdrasil brought in from Britain hauling her forward but again, with twelve being a high speed sweeper, and so she was once again caught behind Alfred, who was trailing Rivalz, and was once again the cork in the bottle as the dirty air caused her car to squirm, with the wings of the cars ahead sending the air flowing up and away from Kallen's and robbing her of valuable grip.

However, Kallen was not to be deterred, and was not one to lack ambition, and so chucked the car up the inside into the braking zone at thirteen, placing her car between Alfred and the apex. She risked a crash if he turned across her, as there was no way for her to back out of the move if things went badly, but she knew that Alfred knew not to fight it, and he blinked, giving her the position after having lost her a boatload of time.

"Thanks for nothing." she muttered to nobody as the engine growled filthily down the straight as if to punctuate her frustration. However, she could see the horizon, and it was named Ashford-RT, as the team hadn't changed engine suppliers like Rebellion had and so should be a sitting duck for Kallen on the straight.

However, winning the Indianapolis 500 had given Rivalz a surprising dose of chutzpah, as he cut across her nose before the braking zone to cover the inside, however the rapid closing distance as he placed his car in the path of Kallens' forced her to jam on the brakes in the middle of the straight, which displeased the Shinjuku woman.

"The fuck did he- he just weaved in the straight, is dangerous! Fuck me, losing time…"

Kallen nonetheless pursued him out of the braking zone and onto the start/finish straight, where she pulled to the outside and marched ahead with DRS, opening a flap in her wing to reduce drag and allow her to slink past. As they sprang into the braking zone, Kallen got her nose ahead and was about to swing across his before he moved out and across to squeeze her to the outside, swooping across and reserving the outside line for himself, leaving Kallen between a kerb and a hard place. Slipping onto the outside grass, Kallen pulled the car around and recovered it, but it was a close call, and she was now losing her temper.

"He's such an idiot…" Kallen grumbled into her radio, now getting desperate. "He can't fight me forever, he can't keep me behind for the entire rest of the bloody race, he's just slowing himself down by fighting so hard. Alfred is hot on our heels because he's fighting every goddamn corner. Unbelievable-"

She could have gone on until long after Rivalz had run out of fuel, and quite possibly would have, until Ohgi came onto the radio and cautioned "Okay, calm down Kallen calm down, stay focused. Pass him on this-"

"I am calm!" she interrupted as she strung the car through the eye of the needle to pull up behind Rivalz again, pulling to the inside determinatively and marking her territory. Rivalz had had his fun, but he was small fry, and so Kallen bullishly pulled up in the braking zone to show she had had enough of these games and had a race victory to contest. Come hell or high water, the position would be hers.

It was initially promising, as she lunged at the apex under turn in, scrubbing a bit at the tyres but successfully contesting the inside of the corner, however she had made the move too late, as Rivalz, who had already began his braking, clipped into her side and rocked the rear of the car. She rotated the wheel away from the corner to correct the nudge, and kept the car moving forward, but the undesirability of having other drivers hit into you was tautological, something Kallen was swift to note.

"Unbelievable. What a joke, that defence was ridiculous."

Kaname Ohgi was almost certainly placed in an unenviable position in light of Kallen's anger, and simply said "We saw, we have seen, keep your head down, the stewards are examining the incident. Suzaku hasn't pitted yet, you can still catch him. We just need some fast lap times from here on out."

Kallen grumbled, but was nonetheless returned to the task of lighting up the track. With a significant gap from twelfth to eleventh on track, Kallen had the open ground to go on the hunt. With Suzaku's soft tyres beginning to degrade, Kallen's hards were still on song, and their respective lap times began to equalise, and Kallen had even set a time quicker than Suzaku's as his softs fell off the cliff and he moved to pit for new tyres.

Having been able to take his softs far longer into the race, Suzaku would now be able to switch onto mediums to complete the race, while Kallen had had to switch onto hards in order to get them to the end, due to her stop being so early. This was not to mention that his softer tyres would also be much younger. Suzaku would have wicked grip, and she had to get track position ahead of him after he pitted to have any chance in the final phase of the race.

She moved to her steering wheel, switching up the electric deployment and fuel flow once again, opening the differential, adjusting the brake bias, and steeling herself, taking a silent moment on the long straight to dig up whatever she could. She had one lap to make up for her losses, and it would be the perfect lap. All she had to do was drive it.

Braking as late as she dared into turn one, swinging around under braking to swoop the car up into the kink of turn two, clipping the apex and shooting off of it. Hurling the car into the esses, she held the car in check with as much force as her arms could muster, only just keeping the car within the limits of the circuit as she brushed against the outer edges of what the car could do. Consciously reminding herself to breath only briefly, she sucked in air to brace her gut as she slammed on the brakes into the off camber turn ten, skating down the track before launching the car to escape velocity on the exit. Kallen had injected every fibre of her being into the lap, but it would be absurdly close if she was to keep ahead of Suzaku as he left the pits. She saw the white blur striking out of the pit lane as she pulled up, dragging to turn one with huge speed.

Suzaku had a shorter run, but Kallen had a must faster approach, and as he moved to cover the inside Kallen simply flew the car into the wide part of the corner, increasing the radius of the turn to overtake on the outside, which turned to the inside at the kink. Holding the line as she felt the car tug at her, pulling the mass of the car out as she felt the wash of understeer, however she struck the rubber sides against the tarmac and shot out ahead. She had just held on.

However, she would have a task holding Suzaku back. She had made up the time lost for her costly battling enough to be ahead on track, she had taken even more life out of her tyres to do it. Her pace was going to cost her, however Kallen herself was still up to a fight.

She took stock on the run down to turn three. Kallen and Suzaku had fought once before. Kallen had gained much more skill in the year since they came to blows at Japan, but Suzaku's car was now far closer to hers in performance. Once again, she would need everything she had to win.

The race was long, with over twenty laps to contest. Kallen was vulnerable into every braking zone and guarded every apex with defensive maneuvers of increasing aggression, however she was blessed with her cars new engine, which gave her a last line of defence on the straights, and compensated for her lowered grip by giving her a natural gap on entry to corners, giving her invaluable track position. She would tack to the inside and blocked the apx, a horribly slow way to navigate a corner but it prevented Suzaku from popping it down her inside under braking and dive bomb her.

And so they continued at an impasse; both travelling relatively slowly, but with Suzaku unable to pass, she could regulate the pace, and, as it proved, she was doing almost too good a job, as she realised that she was not only being chased by one car, as she saw a purple blur sat behind Suzaku's white Rosenberg in her rear view mirrors.

Lelouch Lamperouge, with the freshest tyres of the bunch for having pitted long after Suzaku, had joined the party, invited by the slow pace of the leaders, and, as in Monaco, stood to profit from a pitched battle between two Japanese drivers. His talent for driving may have been questionable, but it seemed his talent for opportunism knew no bounds. Unable to attack and defend at the same time, Suzaku was briefly shaken from his flow, as Kallen saw his rear end shimmy on exit of the last corner, which was all the invitation Lelouch needed.

With Suzaku getting a bad exit, in conjunction with his power deficit, Lelouch was quickly able to pull to his outside and pull ahead quite early on the long straight. However, he wasn't content to leave it at that, as Kallen saw him steam up the outside in her mirror, rapidly increasing in size. While he was her teammate, and she probably ought to afford him more consideration, she had no intention of surrendering the position, and so moved towards the outside to crowd the line and squeeze him out. A defending car was only allowed to drift to the sides of the track in one direction on a straight, however she was confident in moving out from the inside to the outside that she would squeeze off his attack and force him to lift out of the throttle to avoid hitting her.

However, Lelouch was smart, and more than a little devious. Likely predicting Kallen attempting to crowd out his line, he switched lines, violently shooting his car to the inside at the last minute. Kallen gasped as she saw him pull up down her inside. He had caught her in a dummy! He had indicated his intent to go to the outside, waited for her to waste her one defensive move, and then switched to an undefended inside. She could only watch as he braked with far more grip, protected the apex, and continued away with the lead of the race.

It was so typically Lelouch. It was by no means illegal, however it was at best deceptive, and relied on a healthy dose of cunning and was a little looked down on as a cheap trick that required little skill. Suzaku would never have been caught dead trying a dummy, which had led Kallen, who had grown used to defending against Suzaku's pattern of behaviour, to not expect the trick. However, he was irrefutably past her, and she had no hope of overtaking him back. All she could hope to do was to continue to defend against Suzaku.

However, the initial phase of extreme grip had been lost, and the time spent driving behind Kallen had heated them up immensely. His window of difference had been narrowed, and so all Kallen had to do was nurse the car home. Even as the hards fell off in the dying laps, Suzaku was contained, and she would finish second. However, as she entered the second to last corner, her peripheral vision caught a glimpse of fireworks lighting up the main straight, and she knew it was not for her. Taking his maiden victory would be Lelouch Lamperouge, some fifteen seconds ahead of the other two podium finishers, bottlenecked by Kallen. She was happy that it was at least Lelouch, who was not a long term threat, than Suzaku, who would almost certainly prove to be a far closer competitor for the championship. As she slid the car into the last corner, tyres long past their expiration date, she shot the car out towards the chequered flag, holding onto second as she saw Lelouch ahead, slowed down with his fist extended out of the cockpit.

Finding it hard to begrudge Lelouch in his public show of celebration, Kallen cooled down the pace, knocking down the gears before pulling up alongside the exuberant Lelouch, arm shaking out the cockpit ferociously. She chuckled as they drove in parralel.

She'd let him have this. He wouldn't be trouble.

* * *

 **~Eth0**


	20. OK20 - Smile!

**OK Number 20 - Smile!**

* * *

Lelouch didn't stop smiling for a long time after winning. Far be it from him to ever slip out of his natural state of sarcastic grins and quiet smugness, even he found the natural inclination to beam like a complete idiot to be altogether too irresistible. On the podium, conducted by the humourless Kyoshiro Tohdoh, he found himself lost for words, resorting back to French more than once. There was a sudden fumbling incompetence, unexplainable, that washed over him after he crossed the line, that sent him mad with celebratory gusto. Fist pumping, roaring across the radio, and donuts on the track were the most acute symptoms that grew less pronounced over time, but the toothy smile remained long after the podium had ended, long after the parties had entered the cushy numbers, and long after all the booze was gone.

Indeed, there was still an upward turn etched into the finer detailing of his cheeks as he disembarked the plane to Japan, the site of both the next race and Nunnally's medical centre, and he was very much looking forward to visiting both.

There was an immense confidence that came with a race win, particularly ones first. One felt as if a great pressure was relieved, that that need to prove oneself was now met and all the pent up anxious waiting was over. The monkey was off the back, and one could finally relax.

Of course, that didn't apply to everyone.

"Suzaku? Where are you?"

Lelouch stood at the door of Suzaku's sukiya villa like a bit of a berk, alone but for a suitcase and the bluest sky in the world. The palette was balanced with the yellow of the wooden former coffee house and the brown of the dry dirt, devoid of grass in the vast heat. It was also, annoyingly, devoid of the buildings owner and resident, one Suzaku Kururugi.

"Is he really going to make me…" Lelouch grumbled, looking about the porch incredulously. Receiving no answer, he shrugged and set about breaking into his best friends house.

Fortunately, Suzaku was a creature of habit, and whether in France, Japan, or anywhere in between, he could be counted on to hide his key under the first tile immediately left of the doorframe. Prying off the loose ceramic square with his pocket knife, he was rewarded with a single steel key, laid in the centre of the break between the tile and the foundations. Seizing his prize with zeal, Lelouch moved towards the lock and with a swift turn, was granted entry. He stepped inside, and locked the door behind him.

The classical house was conservatively decorated and soothing in its design, however it was not quiet, as Lelouch realised why his friend wasn't answering the door, as he heard the furious sound of a treadmill spinning and the associated stomping of feet. It was fitting, Lelouch supposed. Suzaku had always been a fitness fanatic and an alleged vegetarian, who had long tried to cajole Lelouch into the mysterious world of physical exercise. While Lelouch had been dubious of the whole affair, and had had work anyhow, Suzaku was reaping the dividends of his discipline, and was probably the most physically fit driver on the current grid, perhaps matched only by Li Xingke.

Finding the gym rat was a simple matter of following the running noises and the growing grunts and heavy breathing down a flight of stairs and through a set of doors into Suzaku's personal exercise centre, with the named man sprinting along the road to nowhere. He had an oxygen feeder mask strapped across his face and blood tubes monitoring his oxygenation and pressure. He was more sweat than man, and was in such a focus that he didn't notice Lelouch until he walked up next to the mill and tapped the metal bar to get his attention.

Turning his head, Suzaku fell out of his tunnel, and immediately turned off the programme, allowing the rolling road to slow before he hopped off. Pulling off his oxygen mask, Suzaku stared at him listlessly for a few seconds before breathlessly asking "How... you get in?"

"Find a new place to hide your key."

From Suzaku's facial expressions, it appeared once again as if it took several seconds for Lelouch's answer to register, however after a somewhat concerning gap, likely generated by his exhaustion, he eventually nodded and looked aside to remove the blood linkages as if Lelouch breaking and entering was just something that was to be expected. He was visibly drained, and even in spite of that took great precision in untangling himself from the cables strapped to his chest and arms, before chugging a mysterious dark liquid. Watching the colour slowly return to his friends face, Lelouch felt brave enough to inquire further, asking "How's the performance?"

Wiping at his face with a towel, Suzaku nodded to acknowledge the question with satisfying haste before replying "Good, good. Trying to peak on altitude training. Can't afford to put on mass, otherwise I'll hit the maximum weight and we can't run ballast, so I'm staying away from muscle training."

One of Lelouch's few genuine attributes as a driver was his low weight; he was the skinniest man on the grid, and while the FIA mandated that drivers should be of equal weight with a ballast added to each drivers car to get them up to the weight of the heaviest driver, it did not say where this ballast had to be placed in the car. This gave the teams with lighter more control over the cars weight distribution. With Lelouch, the ballast was twenty-two kilograms, with the benchmark set by Luciano Bradley, which was an immense asset in setting up the cars balance. Twenty-two kilograms over the nose or tail of the car had an immense impact on turn-in and grip. Suzaku knew that he needed to keep his weight down, and so was focusing on cardio exercises.

"I mean, you saw what Kallen was like after Australia and Bahrain. Fast, yes, but utterly shattered. Any advantage you can get, right?"

Suzaku frowned at Lelouch's aside, as he tapped at a keyboard to turn off the treadmill, before noting "Well, not any advantage."

Lelouch smirked, and, pointing a finger at Suzaku, replied "Evidently. And you lost out. I've been telling you since F3, you can't laze about waiting for an opportunity you feel is ethically consistent with your many principles. Races is won and lost in thousandths of a second."

Suzaku shrugged, unconcerned, before remarking "I'm a quick thinker. I saw the move you made laps before, and I determined it was far too risky. Can't score points if I don't finish."

"True enough." Lelouch conceded, pausing for a moment before beginning with caution with a simple "Although…"

Watching with the corner of his eye, he caught the moment where he piqued Suzaku's curiousity, and took some pride in it. Drawing out the 'o' sound, he eventually continued "It is worth observing that you lost points to her. The points delta between you and her increased from seven points difference to seventeen. Taking the risk, you would either end up ahead of her, decreasing the delta, or, if it failed and there was an incident, neither of you score points and the difference between you remains at seven points. Staying back was probably the worst thing you could have done."

Suzaku blinked, before asking "Are you saying it would have been better to crash into her than finish behind her?"

"As a strict hypothetical, you would have lost less points relative to her."

Suzaku was once again not surprised, and chuckled at his friends strange way of thinking, before replying "Tell you what, let's see who wins the Championship first. You with your maths, and me, winning it my way."

Lelouch smiled, and defensively replied "I don't make bets I won't win. It's bad for business."

They both had a laugh at this. Lelouch was under no delusions as to his place as a blagger. Incredibly intelligent, yes, but largely reliant on subterfuge to get ahead while he was still young and could feign speed. Self-aware to a fault, Lelouch had made a career of carefully picking his fights to build a brand that could pay for his siblings' futures, one of whom was desperately vulnerable and the other of whom was actually a fast driver.

Speaking of which, Lelouch remembered to ask "So when is Nunnally arriving?"

Suzaku paused again, looking at Lelouch with quizzical eyes for a long time before the Frenchman saw panicked realization reach his irises.

"That was today?"

Lelouch rolled his eyes, and sarcastically replied "No, it was the 3rd of May of next year. Of course it's today you fool!"

Lelouch was able to bask in the rare joy of watching Suzaku let out a vicious swear in panic, before the Japanese man literally leaped across the room as if he had all energy in the world, flying into the shower like a rocket. Lelouch, somewhat bemused, stood in the middle of the gym like a gherkin until Suzaku had attended to his sweat, if not his hair, which remained an unknowable mess of knots and ends. Rushing on a shirt and jeans, Suzaku had transformed from his tired state to a more presentable tired state, clearly excited for the big day.

Nunnally was getting out of hospital. It still made Lelouch shiver with excitement to think about, that she could finally be at the end of her ocular treatments after so long, but she was to be removed and driven out for legal reasons for Lelouch to meet her, and he had decided to host the gathering in Suzaku's house, with his friend similarly eager to meet his sister at the end of her long road to recovery, though she would likely have to spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair. While Lelouch was still livid that that had been taken from her, he once again could not find it in him to be anything other than delighted right now.

"Well, erm… yeah, in that case we may want to set up for her then."

Suzaku, who likely now realised that he may also want to get lunch going, invited Lelouch back upstairs and into the kitchen, where he went about the delicate business of preparing a meal for them when everyone arrived.

"Will Rolo be joining us?" Suzaku asked, to which Lelouch shook his head and replied "He's testing with an F2 team, he may get a drive with them which would be great news. However, it's in Spain, so it may prove challenging for him to make it for tea here."

Suzaku laughed, and was likely about to say something before there was a knocking on the door. Both men froze as they realised who it was and realised that they wholly unprepared they were to host much of anything. They stood still in shock before a second ring of the both sent them into motion, with Lelouch taking charge, yelling "You finish the lunch, I'll run interference!"

Sprinting up through the hallway towards the front door, Lelouch did the trip in less than thirty seconds, before taking a moment to examine himself. Closely shaved, hair was in good shape, his shirt was tucked and slacks were still ironed. This was going to be the first time in a decade his sister could see him with her own eyes, and he wanted to live up to her expectations. She had always spoken so keenly of having her vision back, and he did not want to let her down again.

Taking in a deep breath, he unlocked the door and pulled it open, only to be greeted with the end of a very strange sentence.

"-strange, he always kept his key under… oh, Lelouch!"

The man paused as he examined the scene before him. Nunnally looked down, puzzled, as Sayako, her nurse who had looked after her for years, now kneeling on the tiling, held a slab of concrete up with both hands. Both women seemed to be staring intently at the exposed dirt horizon below the removed tile, at least until Lelouch made himself known. It took him a moment to realise what had transpired.

"Were… you trying to break in with his spare key?"

Sheepishly, Nunnally looked aside before replying "Maybe…"

Frowning, unsure whether to be proud or horrified at his sisters line of thinking, mirroring his own, before he realised that neither of these were quite right. He had missed the wood for the trees, as he caught his sisters gaze, and perhaps just as importantly, her eyes. He could see her eyes, open and acknowledging, and he suddenly found his throat jam up. His eyes widened as they shared a look, however as he tried to verbally express his wonderous joy-tinged surprise at something he had been informed and ought to expect, and yet could never have properly prepared himself for, he could only arrived at a stuttering silence.

"I- Nunnally…" he tried, before falling to his knees, gripping the wheels of her seat and staring at her from a level plane. He struggled to hold it, before succumbing to even that and beginning to tilt his head down and cry.

He had been dreaming of this moment for a decade, and in spite of knowing its date to the minute for over two months, with all that time and more to prepare, he could not contain himself. All he had ever hoped for Nunnally was safety and peace, he had venerated that concept and idealised it so much that now its presence seemed impossible. He was being deceived, there must surely be a caveat, a catch.

"Brother, it's me…"

He looked up again, and smiled. Shaking his head, he could only just about chuckle through his miserable features. Of course it was her. Nunnally was, in spite of learning some bad habits about housebreaking from her brother, positively unable to be deceptive, or to play a mean trick. She knew what to say to reassure him to the syllable.

This time her really did chuckle. What first impression was this? Nunnally had waited over ten years to see him and this was what he gave her? Further, that what he gave her was so predictable that she knew what to say to assure him? This would not do.

Stealthily wiping away his tears, he rose with pride to embrace his sister, hugging her about the shoulders and, taking the moment while his face was out of sight at the apex of the hug to clean his face properly, pulled back, smiling as he allowed Nunnally to see her brother.

"Ugly as you'd imagined?"

There was a humility to self-deprecating humour that Lelouch did enjoy invoking, and it did wonders to lighten the mood as Nunnally gave a very light chuckle, like the tingle of a Christmas bell. She crunched her eyes as she shook her head, and replied "Don't be silly! You're all grown up, big and tall, just as I'd imagined. You look great, though um…"

Eyebrows raising with caution, he carefully enquired "Yes?", drawing out the 'eh' and the 'ss' elements, to which Nunnally paused, seeming to want to pick her words carefully.

"I'd have thought you'd put on a bit more muscle than that."

Lelouch froze, as Sayako chuckled. Quickly recovering, he shook his head, and replied "Children can be so cruel."

Sayako smiled, before adding, much to Nunnally's amusement "She's fourteen, teenagers can become a bit rebellious at that age you know."

"I've been trying to get him to weight train, but the stick always has other plans."

Lelouch turned from his crouched position to see Suzaku standing over the three of them with oven mitts and a gentle smile. Lunch was ready, evidently. Lelouch would not have minded a bit more time alone with Nunnally in the least, but he would have plenty of time in the coming week. As he stood to wheel Nunnally inside, Sayako also stood and moved to address Lelouch.

"I'll be off then. This event is for you."

Lelouch frowned, before commenting "Nonsense. I insist you join us."

Sayako remained visibly uncertain, seemingly not willing to push her luck, before replying "I appreciate your offer, but this is a private reunion for your family. It is not my place."

"Rubbish!" Lelouch replied. "You helped my sister return to health for years, sticking by her through thick and thin. You're a damn sight closer to family than a great many people I've blood relations to. You help Nunnally, and you get a seat at whatever table I'm responsible for. You're as welcome here as anywhere for all you've done."

Nunnally smiled, and turned around to reassure the maid, following up with "That's right, Aunt Sayako!", which caused her to blush, and Lelouch to chuckle, as he watched Sayako convince herself. He was not familiar with the moniker Nunnally had given Sayako, but in light of how much the Japanese woman had done for her and how much time they had spent together, it was no surprise that they had formed a close bond. However, this had done a great deal to incriminate Sayako, which she knew.

"I guess I wouldn't mind… to eat with you all. Thank you."

"It would be my honour." Lelouch reassured, as he stepped inside, following a surprisingly fresh and clean Suzaku through to the kitchen, where he had concocted a rapid collection of dishes, none too extravagant but all quite significant when placed together on a platter with some clever presentation. Suzaku was visibly proud of his work, and invited his guests to enjoy.

Not another word was spoken for some time, as all parties were extremely hungry, not least Suzaku, who ate quite a bit more than Lelouch assumed possible for a human. Whatever the case, it was quite a delicious meal, prepared with all the finest ingredients, with the finest of all being hasty desperation, almost undetectable and yet unquestionably adding to the dish. Some people really did perform under pressure, Lelouch acknowledged, and such people made excellent racing drivers.

Once the meal was finished, Nunnally broke into twenty questions, eager to learn about all the things she had missed out on. She was infinitely fascinated by Lelouch's rare violet eyes, and quite excited to learn she had inherited them in a lighter shade. Much time was spent peering into a mirror in pleased fascination. Suzaku's eyes, though a less rare shade of green, also enjoyed a place of honour by virtue of their sheer, fiery intensity, reportedly "hotter than the sun."

The talk eventually turned to Suzaku and Lelouch's day job. It had been ten years since she had laid eyes on a racing car, and was excited to watch her brother in action, particularly once she learned that he had in fact won his first race.

"Why don't we watch that one then?" Lelouch suggested, silently looking forward to reliving one of the better days in his racing career. Suzaku copped on immediately, but kept it as a quiet joke by privately rolling his eyes when only Lelouch could see, before smiling. Nunnally would enjoy watching her brothers succeed, so it was not a bad shout.

Putting on the recording, Nunnally was immediately fascinated, both with the new, more aggressive cars that were low slung and high tempo and with the drivers. She was biting into her pillow as Kallens tyres wore and Suzaku closed up, immediately invested in their battle. She was up in arms at the backmarkers holding Kallen up after she pitted, even though she was purportedly the enemy, as they were "robbing us of a battle later on at the front.", and she almost had to look away as Lelouch sent a last minute dive up her inside, leaving no room and no chance for Kallen to defend, as he switched direction only moments before the braking zone. As the race ended, she was almost out of breath.

"That was so exciting!" she proclaimed. "Things have changed so much, it's incredible. You did so well to get past Lelouch!"

Lelouch, balancing humble with smug expertly, thanked her, before she went on "That Kallen was really fast though, it's freaky. She's a good driver."

Suzaku nodded, before commenting "On one lap pace, for sure I've got catching up to do. But she needs to race smarter, manage her tyres, and so on. She hit a few of those backmarkers, which she had no business doing. She still has quite a bit to learn, and if she thinks that she's on the back foot, I think she'll likely compound the issue by driving even harder to come back to parity with myself and Lelouch."

Absorbing this with rapt attention, Nunnally was now intensely invested in the story, and said "Goodness, I can't wait for Suzuka!"

Lelouch, with a desire to make his sister happy, replied "It's not that far, would you want to be down at the track for the race?" She was nothing if not receptive to this idea, however Suzaku cautioned by noting "Sayako would have to be there as well, but she doesn't know her way about the paddock. Who would help them on the day? The Rebellion team has enough on its plate."

Lelouch flitted his eyes down to consider this, before coming to a realisation, and replying "I think I know someone who might be able to help."

Suzaku frowned, and asked "Who?"

* * *

 **For clarity, Kallen's first season was the 2017 season, and we're now in 2018. I messed up the dating in chapters past, but hopefully we're on the same track now. In any case, look forward to the Japanese Grand Prix coming in the next installment. See you then.**

 **~Eth0**


	21. OK21 - Look But Never Stare

**OK Number 21 - Look But Never Stare**

* * *

Much had been made of why both Kōzuki's enjoyed far more organic support in their home country than Suzaku ever had. In spite of the two title contenders both being Japanese, the home crowd at Suzuka for the Japanese Grand Prix was definitively one sided, with sporadic chants of 'Oshiyoseru Kōzuki', as well as the popularised Japanese flag with the kanji spelling out Kallen's name in the four corners filling up the grandstands.

Some hypothesised that it was a function of the Kōzuki's both driving for a Japanese team while Suzaku drove in a British outfit, however this failed to account for the muted response Kyoshiro Tohdoh, who also drove for Rebellion, received. Others posited it as a question of background. Suzaku had lived out most of his childhood and early adulthood in France, away from Japan, while the Kōzuki's had lived in the inner city of Shinjuku for years, never moving away from their familial home in spite of their emancipation from their now divorced parents. This hypothesis contested that the Japanese crowds saw the redheads as being more a part of Japanese life and society than the 'foreign' Suzaku.

The third hypothesis was based on class. While some amount of wealth and support is needed to enter motorsport in any serious capacity, Suzaku was, at least financially, never left wanting, which did, rightly or wrongly, remove a significant amount of the sympathy afforded to the Kōzuki's, who worked odd jobs up to when Naoto got a seat in Formula 2, and acquired a personal sponsor in the energy industry to finance the siblings. This supposedly made the crowd identify with them more than they did the son of a wealthy ambassador.

Whatever the case, it was undeniable, Naoto noted as he sat in the secluded stand he had been afforded above the pit lane, that Kallen-mania had reached fever pitch in Japan. Like Nigel Mansell in the United Kingdom, there was a manic buzz about the country in the week leading up the 2019 Grand Prix, as if a competitive Kallen had taken the place and given it a fierce shake. The grandstands were as full as Naoto had ever seen them, and certainly as loud.

However, in the isolated guest suite overlooking the track, conditions were much less intense, with the elevated balcony removed from the sweat and emotionality of the packed paddock but providing some ability to breathe and move about, which for Naoto's charge was an issue of significant importance.

"Look over here Naoto, you can see the whole Ferris Wheel from over here!"

Naoto quietly huffed as he watched one Nunnally Lamperouge wheel herself from one end of the room to the other, furiously pushing her wheelchair across with all the energy she could muster from her stickly arms, quite similar to her brothers. Obligated to keep an eye on her, he grabbed his crutches and hobbled across the room to beside where she was sitting and looked over the precipice, leaning on his walking aide.

"It's beautiful, don't you think so Naoto?"

"Sure."

Naoto, stood above and behind the young teenager, shook his head slightly as he thought about how he had arrived at this point in his life where he was babysitting the sister of one of the people he could not stand the most. Getting himself injured so that he couldn't either race or do anything else useful with which he could excuse himself, that was a start. Then, allowing his sister to pick Lelouch to be her teammate, and then on top of that, to be cajoled into minding Lelouch's sister, fresh out of hospital, who was not in a fit state to enjoy the Grand Prix on her own. While she was perfectly pleasant, it was quite draining, and no matter how much he reminded himself that Nunnally was a different individual who was reportedly the nicest human on earth, he couldn't hear the name "Lamperouge" without getting an unnatural suspicion.

Particularly not after-

"Everything all right up here?"

Naoto turned around, pivoting about his left crutch to see Sayako with a plate of lunch for the two of them, likely lifted from the extensive hospitality suite. Nunnally, who took a moment longer to turn and see the nurse, nodded excitedly before replying "Absolutely! The cars are going to be lining up on the grid in a second, this is so exciting!"

It was incredibly endearing, Naoto, though loath to do so, had to admit. She had an immense earnesty that was quite persistently likeable. Maybe this mightn't be as bad as he had expected.

As the cars left the garages, Naoto began to tuck into lunch before Nunnally asked "So this was the circuit you had your accident at?"

Nodding, he pointed out towards the back and explained "The car bottomed out on approach to the corner, and it skated into the barrier. Still hurts a good bit, but it could have been much worse."

Her face darkened, before replying "Do you want to sit? If it hurts, you probably shouldn't be standing on it. Here, I'll get you a seat next to me, one second."

Naoto, quite surprised by being coddled by someone half his age, moved to reject the offer, but Nunnally, perhaps inspired by her brother, did not take no for an answer, calling back to Sayako to get another chair over his protests. In spite of him, Sayako was brisk in getting a fold out seat and insisting the injured man sit in it. Begrudgingly, he obliged, and sat down beside Nunnally, who proceeded to lecture.

"You mustn't stress yourself. I know you've been asked to look after me; Lelouch I've no doubt made certain someone did, it's who he is. He wouldn't be able to race without seeing to it. But that doesn't mean you've got to go out and hurt yourself on his behalf. I can handle him, just rest that leg. Putting pressure on it before it's back in position will delay the time before you can begin therapy."

Nunnally was something of an authority on leg injuries, so he took that point with grace, however he was pleasantly surprised by her self-awareness. Certainly, she was a bit overbearing, but that was more indicative of her youth. He recalled a time Kallen had been just as bossy. Indeed, as he often teased, somedays it appeared as if she had never grown out of that.

However, for her to have guessed that his presence, though indirectly, was Lelouch's doing, and being more than eager to ensure he was not inconvenienced, was nothing if not a pleasant surprise. Perhaps not everyone in Lelouch's orbit was as brazenly haughty as he was. Apparently seeing his face, she chuckled, and followed up by saying "I love my brother, but he can do well to cool it off sometimes. He cares a lot, and he hates to feel to have let me down, so he's really proactive."

Naoto nodded along, Nunnally's words making sense, particularly with what he had experienced with Kallen. He had been that person to some extent for Kallen, trying to avoid her getting taken in and crushed by the Kirihara-Tohdoh bloc and cautioning her against her more spontaneous tendancies, at least before he backed off in light of her success. For once, he related and identified with the Frenchman, which left him feeling somewhat ambiguous. Certainly, Naoto's rationale for distrusting him remained as clear as his memory of that day in Brazil, however it was unfair to say that the concern Lelouch demonstrated didn't earn him sympathy. Perhaps Kallen saw that more human element, and he had missed it. Food for thought.

However, he would have to digest it another time, as the cars began their parade laps. Moving back to grab them from their place by the wall, Naoto picked up a pair of flags, one French and one Japanese, for the pair of them to wave over the next hour and a half. Nunnally picked it up exuberantly, before giving it a furious wave like a trial balloon, to watch the high end fabric flap in the wind, folding over itself as to flew high in the bright blue sky. These movements were wholly new to Nunnally, and her smile was as genuine as Naoto could have conceived, causing him, contagiously, to join her both in grinning and flying the Hinomaru as the grandstands stood in unison to acknowledge Kallen Kōzuki, who was the first person out of the pits, having claimed her third Pole Position in a row. While the races had been tightly contested, it seemed as if Kallen had a midas touch in qualifying, and she had displayed it again the previous day, with her fastest time being three tenths of a second faster than Suzaku's, just edging out Gino, who had his best qualifying of the season. Next was Marrybel, followed by Xingke, and Lelouch was starting down in sixth.

However, as Naoto, forever a racing driver from the heart to the brain, noted the grid positioning, with the Pole slot on the outside of the run down to the first corner. While this was the racing line, the static rubber could give the people on the inside better drive. That said, the outside line was shorter, and faster. On the other hand, the inside was as good a position as imaginable to block off the apex of the fast corner and force a car wide.

Naoto shook his head. He would do well to enjoy the race, as the cars completed their parade laps and lined up in their slots. They looked like toys at this distance, but their movements proved otherwise, with each driver having their own mannerisms on approach to their start position.

Kallen was furiously injecting heat into her tyres by any means necessary, throwing the car about the width of the track, lighting up the rear tyres with smoky wheelspin before jamming on the brakes, bringing the system up to operating temperature and preventing it from slipping. Suzaku was slower, practising his starts with measured romps forward before almost stopping on track, creeping forward in stints to perfect his getaway procedure in accordance with the infetismal track conditions, getting his feet in the exact feel of his throttle pedal. Li Xingke was somewhere between the two, swerving side to side to test his cars lateral grip, but not spurring up the tyres to an extent that might wear at them too excessively. Meanwhile, Lelouch, some ways back, was not doing any warming at all, clearly wanting to save his tyre's life and go longer on his first stint, even if he compromised his start.

As the drivers each reached their slot, the crowds reached fever pitch. The horns blazed at volumes beyond any engine, and the grandstands were barely visible behind layers of flags. The valley between the stands and the pits captured energy most rare, focused at the low grey with twenty miracles of modern engineering. The excitement was a physical force that shook every man and every woman, which included a visibly excited Nunnally, whose face, contorted with boundless enthusiasm normally reserved for those on ludicrous amounts of cocaine. She giggled, and commented "This is so amazing! I can't believe I've missed this!"

No matter how cynical Naoto could be, the pure excitement before a Grand Prix was infectious, and he gave a massive, wide open smile before shaking his flag, as the lights began to ignite, counting up to five.

The engines whirred, with the turbochargers spooled and primed to launch the carbon tubs towards the progressively curved turn one. The fifth light held, held, held, oh lord it held, and then dropped! The lights were out and the race was underway!

Suzaku got a worldly start, pulling up alongside Kallen in the early phase of the getaway, with less wheelspin allowing him to make up positions. Inches apart as they ran in parallel, Naoto froze up with anticipation as they danced down to turn one. Barely separable, neither dared to brake a millimetre too early, both turning at the edge of grip.

Clearly wanting to make the best of his line from his compromised position on the inside, Suzaku held as wide as he could, wanting to either cajole Kallen into backing off and yielding or going out wide onto the green stuff.

But Naoto knew Kallen. Left between a rock and a hard place, she would swear off either and fight her way out. And so, as Suzaku held straight towards the outside kerb, inviting her to run out of tarmac, she held her line, and when he eventually had to turn, she was soon in joining him, when everything suddenly seemed to slow.

As Suzaku turned earlier, he had a narrower line, and less of an arc to pull. Kallen, who had held in the throttle with immense bravery, turned only at the last minute when Suzaku left the space, however this led to her having to take a harsher line across, turning in much more severely and cutting her line across Suzaku's. Kallen pulled in, and tried to keep her front end up with Suzaku's, but the corner narrowed, forcing the cars into single file, and two into one doesn't go.

Kallen still tried to keep at least her nose in the fight for first, however Suzaku, with a car filled to the brim with fuel making it heavy and lethargic, and he understeered wide, his car floating to the outer edge of the track, unwillingly cutting off Kallen. As his sidepod ran into and pushed against her nose, her car surrendered to the lateral forces, and the car pirouetted like a sad spinning top.

Naoto was solid as a stone with nervous shock, knuckles white and spine stuck in bolt upright position. Tragedy, at the first corner! He shook at the torso with frustration, letting out a terse breath of disappointment as Suzaku, only briefly unsettled by Kallen hitting his side, shot off into the esses, followed by Li Xingke, Marrybel Glinda, Lelouch Lamperouge, and the rest of Formula Ones motley crew, but one, with Kallen having to wait for the traffic to disperse before she could reenter the track, and if Naoto knew anything, he knew she would be driving angry.

As the view cleared, with the cars having driven off towards the meat of the track out in the country, Naoto shook himself, easing out the tension in his muscles. It was disappointing, but Kallen could charge through the field, and always put on a show while doing so, as seen in Britain last year. There was still hope.

"Such a shame." Nunnally consoled. "She did so well in qualifying, I'm so sorry it's gone awry."

Naoto looked aside for a moment, and kindly shook his head. What did she have to apologise for? Not only was she not on track, but she didn't have anything to do with Suzaku or how he drove. He could only be amused by her concern, and ruffled her hair. This may not be such a bad way to spend a Grand Prix.

The cars returned about a lap of the circuit in a very short period, with their engines approaching the near end of the Doppler Curve some ways past 130R, the corner where he had crashed, as they were on approach to the final chicane of Casio, a tight complex where the drivers had to slow their cars down over the crest, where they came into view from their elevated position. As they rolled out of the exit, the corner opening up to allow them to progressively open the taps, there was a great bellowing as the cars dropped in single file down the main straight, none more than a meter from another. Kururugi, bang, from Glinda, bang, who had passed Xingke, bang, from Lamperouge, bang. Even with his sister down, it was still a great spectacle.

And of course, she was not to be defeated quite so easily, as when the stragglers at the back came into view, Kallen was right in the mix, already up to seventeenth as they left Casio and outdragging the sixteenth car down the straight, pulling up to the inside before doing to it what Suzaku had done to her, minus the spinning. The crowd went ballistic to see her get back into the race with the bit between her teeth, as did both of the injured family members up in the Rebellion hospitality booth, who cheered her on as she boomed through the esses.

Their viewing experience, due to the big screens being angled towards the crowd, was limited to this brief window once per lap, but the atmosphere made it absolutely worth it. Nunnally and Naoto even began to bet on what position Kallen would have risen to by the time she came back around. With a series of biscuits and only the knowledge of where she had been the last time she left the main straight, they had a great time trading increasing sums of cookies, before eagerly anticipating the distinct, hunkered down Rebellion, aggressive and front loaded in its setup that sacrificed stability for speed.

However, as Naoto opened up his laptop to examine lap times, he noticed that she was not pushing, keeping to a limited delta. She was likely saving tyres, which pleased Naoto to no end. She had lost the last race to pushing too hard on her tyres, and to see her learn and do better was fantastic.

And it would pay dividends as the leaders went in to pit. Kallen would stay out and extend the first stint, allowing her to potentially jump some of them with an overcut once she herself pitted. Marrybel came in first for a slick, two-and-three-quarter second stop, before stamping at the throttle to rejoin the race. Suzaku came in for a fresh set of boots the next lap, and the Rosenberg team delivered them with similar haste, sending him out of the box before he could have caught his breath. In this time, Kallen had overtaken them on track, however she still had to pit, which would put her some ways behind. However, it was still fun to see Kallen leading the race, if only briefly.

Kallen held the lead for another ten laps, before finally pitting. Everyone had gone onto the Medium compound of tyre, and so had she, but she had ten laps less wear on them, and had ten less laps to do on them, which meant that Kallen could push, and push hard.

The first victim of this new stint was Villetta Nu, in seventh, such was the scale of Kallen's recovery drive. The crowd watched with feverish anticipation as the Japanese driver closed up behind Nu, who pulled to the inside to avoid being blocked out, however Kallen then went to the outside and hung it out, managing the grip levels and going the long way round to swoop up and take the place in an awesome move that sent the teetering crowd over the edge into celebration, as it did Naoto, who laughed and shook his arms in celebration as the cars swang out of view. Next up was Li Xingke, whose slow pitstop had put him behind Lelouch. Now, all they could do was wait and see.

"I bet she gets him this lap!" Nunnally determined. It was very possible, however the nature of the track made following closely a challenge, so he imagined it may take a few more laps for her to set up the move, so he replied "Nah, I'll take that bet."

They shook on it, and eagerly awaited Kallen's return. A few people such as the Darlton brother had inverted their strategy, beginning on mediums, and so they were out of position, but the effective leader of the race was Suzaku Kururugi, now in third, followed by another backmarker on an alternate strategy that was yet to pit, followed by Glinda, then Lamperouge. All eyes were on the apex of Casio as they waited to see whether Kallen had done it.

However, all was quiet, as neither Kallen or Xingke were to be seen. Eventually, Nu was seen going through the corner, with no sign of the Japanese or the Chinese drivers. Naoto froze up, wondering what happened, before he saw the marshall at the start line waving a giant red flag, signalling that the race was to be stopped due to a serious impediment on track. This was only to be used in exceptional circumstances; normally, a safety car would be sufficient to allow marshalls to clear up the debris from a shunt. A red flag was as serious as it got, reserved for undriveable track conditions or a significant risk of a fatality.

The words were already at his lips before, behind him, an out of breath engineer had run up behind them and said "Naoto, something's happened to Kallen…"

* * *

 **~Eth0**


	22. OK22 - Viva La France!

**OK Number 22 - Viva La France!**

* * *

"I remember thinking to myself… that's it, it's just happened. I've just watched someone die in front of me. I remember the eighties and nineties well, and it was a common thing, and this had all the same elements. She just… rocked, up and down, her car lifted off the deck at an angle as it skated up the backside of the other car before the floor slammed into side of the wall, and then it just shot through the air and into the barrier on the far side. Then the car just… stopped, with her head bobbing limply. They always say that the worst crashes are the ones where the car doesn't hit much, and stops very suddenly; if it bounces off a lot of stuff, it loses speed gradually, but if it just stops in one hit, the g forces… yeah."

Diethard paused, and sighed. Turning away from the camera for a moment, he took a breath. The history of fatalities in the sport had largely ended in the modern era, but for those who remembered it, it was an emotional matter. Gathering himself, he resumed his note.

"Of course, after she came together with Suzaku, she was livid. She was looking to get back up and fighting with him, and was in no mood to deal with the cars she had let past. She took Nu on the outside of turn one, which was successful, but she caught Li Xingke in the esses, where the dirty air made it hard to follow. She must have lost two seconds, or more, following him through at his slowed pace. When they went down towards the Degners, she was seeing red, and went for the move."

"She dove to the inside, however she made the move too late, and her front left tyre went into the back of Xingke at a hundred and twenty miles per hour. Her car shot off the back of Xingke as if he was a launch pad and she flew up into the air."

"Rolling to the side, she hit the tower at the side at full speed before bouncing off into the Armco, stopping from a hundred miles per hour in under a second, landed upside down."

"Then there was silence. I think that was the worst bit; it was just sitting there, upside down, but there was no movement. Kaname Ohgi was calling her on the radio, but there was no response. I think everyone in the paddock got the most horrible sinking feeling the longer we went on without Kallen climbing out of the car. There was no reassurance, and every nerve screamed at me that we had returned to a very dark place, that we should prepare for the worst. It was only when they righted the car that Kallen made a move we could see, and I think everyone took a massive sigh of relief. We were all quite shaken up."

"She blacked out under the deceleration, but she was ultimately fine, thank goodness. The race was red-flagged, ultimately, beginning again after an hour. Suzaku led from lights to flag, pulling out a big gap to Lelouch and Marrybel respectively."

"Thing is, it was her fault. It is not at all expected or feasible to attempt a pass into Degner One, and, I don't know, I guess she just saw red and shot the car down the inside when there was no having it, and the car just launched into Xingke's backside. The stewards did not look kindly on her aggressive move, and she was handed a five place grid penalty for Monaco, citing dangerous driving, which by all accounts was not taken well by the Japanese driver."

* * *

"Bullshit!"

"Kallen, calm down, you've got a concussion, it's not good to get worked up like this."

Kallen huffed and leaned back into her pillow, as Naoto sighed, his head ticking back frustratedly as the team gathered around the bed winced to absorb the moment. Ohgi, stood behind Naoto, seemed to defer to him in light of their long friendship. Lelouch, near the back of the room, kept a keen ear in the conversation without drawing attention to himself. Front and centre were team management, eager to work through the implications of what this penalty meant.

"Is it appealable?" Kallen asked from her prone position, commanding the tempo of the room. However, in spite of this, they could not change the reality of the facts of the case.

"Unfortunately no. We could in theory, but the race is in two weeks, and it would not be concluded by that time. Further, you approached from behind, and precedent suggests that that would be where liability is imposed."

"Which you knew." Naoto harshly added, clearly displeased. Lelouch, silent at the back, hid a smile. While Nunnally had mentioned that Naoto had warmed to her and had enjoyed himself prior to the crash, he was certainly in no such mood now.

Though no one had bothered to ask, Lelouch had had a very decent race, climbing up three places to secure a podium for the team. He had now pulled ahead of his teammate in the championship standings, placing him ahead of one of the most highly rated young drivers on the grid. No mean feat, and a point in his favour in contract negotiations. Even now with Nunnally out of hospital, she still required Sayako's services, and he was still financing Rolo's rise through the junior formulae. This result was a welcome stroke of fortune, and the pursuant grid penalty at the hardest track on the calender to overtake put him in prime position to build a gap for when she came charging back.

However such sentiments were not for polite company, and as the room quietened in the awkward moment after Naoto's growl, he did not air them. Instead, he allowed Kallen to begin "So, when do I get out of hospital?"

Naoto's face adopted a more scrutinising mould, though, notably for someone who was historically so parental, he did not bite. Having spoken with Kirihara at length, it struck him as out of character on Naoto's part to not be more chastising.

Indeed, he and Kirihara proved to be birds of a feather, with similar approaches to life and racing. Kirihara was a hard businessman with ties in the Japanese Diet, and he recognised who Lelouch was within one meeting, and pulled him aside after the fact to make his awareness plain. While Lelouch was terrified, he quickly realised that Kirihara simply desired clarity, and was content to humour Lelouch and his ambition, as the Frenchman spoke a language that he was familiar with both from his professional life with politicians and racing life with Tohdoh. By comparison with the choleric Kallen whose desires and motive were indeterminable, Lelouch was at pains to present himself as a known quantity, whose line of thinking and desires were easily understood and accommodated by political animals like Kirihara.

He could only imagine the headache having a disgruntled Kallen ordering the team members and Naoto floating about the place being grumpy was giving him. It was glorious, and the discordance could allow him to slip up the totem pole.

One way that would not happen would be him sticking his hat into the fire, and so he remained silent as the attending nurse sighed and said "We're oversubscribed anyway, so we'll try and have you out of here by tomorrow morning."

A lot of sighs, whether of tiredness, frustration, or whatever, were being exhumed, and Taizo joined in the trend, before explaining "It's early days, but it's worth noting that Suzaku is fifteen points clear of you now. Lelouch is keeping in the fight, but even he's three points adrift. Monaco may be a dud due to the grid penalty, but the fight back starts in Canada. Whatever you need, we'll get it, but we need to start putting heavy points on the board."

He looked down, as Lelouch picked at his words like a mealy soup. The screws were being turned for Kallen, which history inferred could play into his hands depending on her reaction. The new Rebellion was unstable, but it had lightning reactions, which should make it OP around the streets of Monte Carlo, and with Kallen out of the running to all intents and purposes, this was his moment to capitalise.

Acknowledging this, Kirihara turned across to Lelouch, sat behind the apostles gathered around the bedside, and said "Monaco will be your weekend. We need to ensure Suzaku scores as few points as possible, so you taking the win off him will reduce his points haul by seven. With a bit of luck, you'll take the lead of the championship at your home event."

Of course, it was nice to be in prime position to take P1 in the championship, but Taizo and Lelouch shared an understanding of what could flow from this. For Lelouch to carry P1 to Brazil would require quite a bit of bad luck on Kallen's part, which was certainly not what they had planned. However, to take the win and the championship lead in Monaco as a Frenchman would open up immense marketing and personal sponsorship opportunities, which Kirihara knew would pacify him.

Such was the benefits of being transparent with what one wanted.

Turning back around, Taizo cleared his throat and addressed the room.

"The setup is already under way in Monaco. The chassis is on this morning's flight to Italy, where the people on the ground will bring it through France and into the Principality. The engine and gearbox will be flying with the engineering group, touching base in Languedoc for stress testing. I want both cars ready to race by Wednesday. Understood?"

The room nodded, and with that, it began to file out, with business concluded. Lelouch hang back, sitting in silence as the strategists and tacticians moved to allow the some siblings time alone. With alert ears, he overheard the beginnings of a conversation between Naoto and Kallen, with Naoto beginning, as he finally shuffled out of the room, the last one to leave.

"So what's the plan?"

"Qualify first, start sixth, win the race."

Ohgi shook his head as he kept his hand at the signal controls, managing the signs posted out the edge of pit lane, with information on Kallen's lap time, and the gaps to the cars ahead and behind her, all to be signposted and held out feet above the racing line, condensed as much as possible to allow the drivers to glance at them as they skated down the narrow pinball streets of Monte Carlo, never more than inches from the walls. The pit board was low tech, but it had to be filled at a moments notice, hung out over seventy times with never an error, and it was, like everything else, honed to a fine art.

However, to watch the way the Rebellion team had run their race weekend, one would assume that the efficient management of plastic boards was the only thing they could pull off well. Suzaku Kururugi had reportedly locked himself in the simulator for hours on end, and had found another gear around Monaco, where his car was theoretically at a disadvantage compared to the short wheelbase Type-2/F19-Y. In spite of this, he was unchallenged by Lelouch in the fight for pole, and while Kallen set a faster lap time, her penalty dropped her down six positions. With Lelouch in P2, there was at least a hope he could take Suzaku on the inside, and that Kallen could repeat her feat from last year of overtaking car after car.

However, things really had not been going their way. Suzaku had launched off into the distance from the start, having fallen into a stupor with laps that were identical to within millimetres, with consistency that allowed him to pull ahead of Lelouch, who had thankfully at least retained second. Kallen had mugged Marrybel off the line, but in saving her tyres, she was struggling to make any headway on P4, caught up and limited to their pace. While Ohgi had done his best to arrange a strategy that could free her up to push and get ahead, however the undercut had failed, and now that all the pitstops had shaken out, he could only try and reassure Kallen as the whole field nursed wounded rubber to the end, with no one wanting to have to make another stop due to the difficulties in overtaking even if they were down to canvasses.

"Keep focused Kallen, we can still get a good result. Everyone is nursing tyres, they may make a mistake. The race isn't over yet."

He had to wait for a response, with Kallen, who was continuously running up behind the car ahead as close as she dared, peeking and poking at every avenue, however as they ran up onto the front straight, she was finally able to respond, though discouragingly it was a simple huff of "For these next few laps, I want less talking, minimal radio from now on."

He shook his head, and rubbed at his forehead with his sleeve. Kallen had been in a bullish headspace since the crash, somewhat down what with the blown opportunity and quietly determined to drive back into contention. However, it seemed to manifest with a brooding anger, which, while it may well have allowed her to drive closer to the limit, left Ohgi more than a little exasperated. She had the speed, but to work with she left much to be desired since she had gotten into this mindset.

He supposed it was not unique to her. Nobody liked to be on the back foot, and most everyone would want to compensate at the next bout, and Ohgi could not say that a little fire was not necessary for any comeback. In any case-

"Safety car! We have a safety car out! Watch the pits!"

The announcement did not come from his radio, but from his computer; an automated voiceover that called his attention to the screen. Watching intently, he looked for what had caused it. The camera was following Kururugi, with the TV director clearly as in the dark as he was. As the director cycled through camera views displayed over the public broadcast to find the victim, Ohgi grinned. This could be their chance! With the pack bunched up, both Kallen and Lelouch could make inroads if they had a good start. This was fantastic!

He didn't even consider the tragic possibility before the director arrived on it, showing the back of a purple rear wing and intricate exhaust system, faced the wrong way around at the swimming pool chicane. Without a view of the cockpit, Ohgi could not determine whether it was the fierce red helmet of Kallen or the black-with-white-accents one Lelouch wore adorned by the driver who had crashed, but either way, Ohgi's heart sank. The camera zoomed out, as cars slowed past the wreckage, yellow flags waved ferociously by the marshals at the scene of the accident.

And then, Ohgi's radio burst into life.

"I… I went for the overtake… but…"

Ohgi trembled. Kallen sounded on the verge of tears, and as the camera cut to a frontal view of the stricken car, with the distinctive helmet bowed, with the visor open and her hands covering her face. This could only be shattering, as Ohgi considered how bad he felt, and how much worse she must.

Watching a replay brought only more pain, as Ohgi watched her try to seize the outside line with the target having a slow line, however, with only half the track to work with, she couldn't slow the car in time, tagged the barrier with her rear tyre, and round she went. She had simply gotten too impatient, and forced the move. Hoping against hope, he asked "Can you get drive."

"No, suspension… the rear suspension's broke. Sorry guys, I'm so sorry..."

Ohgi could not think of any reply that could properly address anything about this situation, and if there had not been another radio interruption.

"Suzaku is pitting! Suzaku Kururugi has entered the pits! Moniter! Do not pit Lelouch under any circumstances, keep Lelouch out!"

"Copy!"

Ohgi had not partaken in any part of this conversation, held between the chief engineer Shogo Asahina and Lelouch's strategist and Ohgi's opposite number, Olivia Reuel, however it clued him into all the context he needed as he saw Suzaku's white Rosenberg stroll past down pit lane. As the cars ran slower on track under a safety car, the difference in speed between track and pit lane was far less pronounced, and so one could lose a lot less time in the pits compared to green flag running. With overtaking close to impossible, the Rosenberg team must have calculated that with Suzaku's large lead, he would wind up coming out ahead of Lelouch anyway, and with how much wear was on everyones tyres, any excuse to pit was a good excuse to pit.

Ohgi watched intently as the racer slotted into the garage and the mechanics set to work replacing his destroyed medium tyres, preserved beyond all sense to make the one-stop work, with brand new soft tyres, with them sliding on as smooth as-

No! Ohgi stood transfixed as the left rear wheel did not attach, and his breath caught as the mechanic swore, took it out, and had a second go of sliding it over the axle. It held, and Suzaku was waved off, but the damage was done. The failed attachment had lost him a second and a half as the mechanic struggled, gave up, and tried to begin again, which could mean-

Ohgi whipped around, almost hurting his neck as he looked from the pit lane to the race track, and just caught the purple car and black helmet streak past. Extending his body out, he looked to the first corner to see who would get out first. It would be close.

Suzaku came into view fifty meters ahead of the corner ahead of Lelouch, but with his speed limit still being slightly slower than the reduced track speed, Lelouch could pull ahead and line up behind the safety car ahead of the Japanese man. They had the lead, with twelve laps to go.

The engineer roared with laughter, as did the entire team, who did high fives and fist bumps all the way down the garage, in stark contrast to the Rosenberg engineers, who were all in some variation of the thousand yard stare as the safety car circulated, guiding the bunched up pack to allow the marshals to work safely.

As Marianne Vi Britannia indicated she planned to pull in after Kallen's car had been recovered, the teams thoughts returned to Lelouch, out there with Suzaku only inches behind with brand new tyres that were forty laps younger and a step softer. As Lelouch waited for the off, Ohgi could hear all the advice going to his earpiece.

"Okay Lelouch, ten laps, you can go when you want, the pack will go when you go, you dictate the pace. Suzaku will have extreme pace, we need everything you have to win this race, all or nothing. Don't crash, and keep heat in the tyres for the restart. DRS will not be enabled. Good luck."

As Lelouch crawled through Rascasse, backing up the pace, Ohgi swallowed down a nervous well, as all the cameras around Monaco followed the local through the twisty end to the lap. It was his impetus, and as he watched onboard with Suzaku's point of view, it appeared he was not taking it now.

However, suddenly, Lelouch lifted off, and Suzaku closed up quickly. The man was forced to brake to avoid running into the race leader from behind, which gave Lelouch his chance. As soon as Lelouch saw Suzaku brake, he stomped on the throttle, launching into the next dimension. As Suzaku was braking, it took him a moment to get out of it and press down on the accelerator, allowing Lelouch to breathe into turn one thanks to the concertina effect. It was well played, timing the off with when his opponent wasn't ready, but while it saved him in turn one, this did not last long. By Casino Square, Suzaku was all over the back of Lelouch, and the battle was joined.

Suzaku had grip that was orders of magnitude greater than Lelouch's, not to mention the skill gap, and it showed as Suzaku followed Lelouch's rear through Sector Two, sniffing at gaps and trying to find any space he could. Around every corner, Lelouch was forced into driving in the middle of the track, into hogging the apex, doing anything and everything to stem the tsunami behind. To borrow the phrase, it was like trying to stop the Niagara falls with a deck chair.

But, at present, the deck chair was winning. Lelouch took a defensive tack everywhere, and even in spite of the domineering presence behind him that weaved and hunted out any scent of a gap, filling up both of his mirrors, Suzaku was restrained to Lelouch's speed. With such a surplus, Suzaku could take corners at such strange lines in the hopes of overtaking, leading to several side by side moments, however Lelouch just about held on.

The tension was unbearable. Lelouch wasn't just living on borrowed time, he was actively haggling with the loan shark for precious seconds, all while fending off one of the best drivers on the grid. Ohgi's nails were long gone, and no one dared breathe as the pair entered their final lap, barely separable as they crossed the line.

All he could think was how much he could have done with a pillow to bite down on, he could barely stand it.

Suzaku, with far more longitudinal grip, had pulled a much better exit, and had even come alongside Lelouch into turn one, however with the inside line Lelouch lunged the apex, before allowing his nose to drift out wide and occupy the whole width of the track on exit, cutting off Suzaku and leaving him with a choice of either pulling out of the move or hitting the barrier on the outside. It was aggressive, hostile defending, and it only held off the oncoming storm for one corner, as as Lelouch ran up to Massenet, Suzaku was already on his tail again. But today, Lelouch was driving histories widest Formula One car, and he extended it further by intentionally missing the apex, not allowing enough space on the inside or outside for a move.

Only a few corners now, and Ohgi could not stand to look. At every opportunity, Lelouch would cut across Suzaku, as his defences grew more desperate. There was almost a t-bone collision at the Nouvelle chicane as Lelouch turned into Suzaku's line, only saved by Suzaku's better instincts as the driver braked to avoid the sidepod of the Franc, who had taken the earliest turn-in since Alain Prost.

Lelouch hung on with everything he had, like Brazil last year, and left nothing on the table. When the whole team rushed to the pit wall to see for themselves who would be ahead in the run up to the line, Ohgi was overwhelmed to see that Lelouch had done it. With a cars length in advantage, he streaked to the line parallel to the pit wall, where the whole team hung out over the fences in celebration, welcoming Lelouch home.

"Nice one mate, that's the Monaco Grand Prix! You had us worried there for a while, but you've done it! P1! P1! Good work!"

What followed from Lelouch was not safe for work and heavily censored, but it was undoubtedly joyous, as he pumped his fist victoriously crossing the line and beyond, only slowing to allow a marshal to hand him a French flag. Waving it from the depths of his cockpit, he was screaming like a madman over the radio.

"Monaco baby! Fantastic, holy- ahahahaa… let's go! Oh god, I…"

He paused, and Ohgi suspected that he was the second of their drivers today to start crying, though for a very different reason. The Monaco Grand Prix was special, and winning it was not like any other Grand Prix. Steeped in heritage, it was a gruelling track that punished mistakes and had been in use longer than any other track. In light of how he had grown up so close by, it was no wonder he was so excited.

"… aha… Well done, everyone. All tasks at hand, bloody well cleared, well done."

* * *

 **~Eth0**


	23. OK23 - For The Love Of Money

**OK Number Twenty Three - For The Love Of Money**

* * *

There was quite the wholesome moment on the podium as Lelouch brought his siblings up to join him on the top spot, with Rolo standing behind his brother while Nunnally rested just below the stand. With Suzaku, who was well ingratiated already with the three, and Gino, who was the friendliest man in the known universe, was swift in introducing himself. Nunnally and Gino engaged in a competition to discover who had the biggest smile, with Prince Albert II of the city state judging, before he handed Lelouch the winners trophy. The two were already acquainted, with Lelouch having been a legal citizen of Monaco for some time, and many years ago dominating the carting scene in the area, and the Prince was delighted for him.

Lelouch himself was as happy as Suzaku had ever seen him, and he even partook in the spraying of champagne, almost making Suzaku want to forget the rather aggressive defensive driving that nearly cost him his front wing and put him in the wall. While words would be had, it seemed wrong to deny him his moment, the second of the season in what was turning out to be altogether very strange. Who would have assumed Lelouch would be leading the championship by seven points over Suzaku, almost doubling his teammate. Certainly, luck had played a large role, but it was still a strange sight. Lelouch joined Riccardo Patrese, Olivier Panis and Jarno Trulli on the dubious list of People That Really Shouldn't Have Won Monaco.

Not that Lelouch would care about the nature of the win; for him, a victory was a victory, and even after he left the podium, he and his family were over the moon, celebrating together at the pool before heading out to their home in Languedoc to celebrate. Doubtless, this spelt only good things for him.

However, Suzaku was internally frustrated. The win had only come due to Suzaku being pitted under safety car. As the pack slowed, the time difference between the on track speed and pit speed would be reduced, which would allow Suzaku to come out ahead of Lelouch. However, someone had bungled the maths, at Suzaku's expense.

Which was why, after the podium ceremony ended, Suzaku did not stay for very long. He wanted an explanation as to what had happened, and knew he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it until he did.

It was the three percent that separated a ninety-seven from a full grade in school, and while the stakes were greater here, the principle was the same; Suzaku never stopped pushing the envelope, and he always needed, almost pathologically, to know where he was losing ground. It was a hunt as vicious as any race, and he was as aware of it as anyone.

The entire length of the podium process was a taxing experience in this sense, as Suzaku itched to find out what had gone wrong. Naturally, he was cross for having lost the race, but he had lost races before, and to lose sleep every time he finished off the top step was masochism beyond even Suzaku's pale. However, in each instance he had made sure he would never make whatever mistakes that had led to that loss again.

For example, during the British Grand Prix in the previous year, Kallen had mugged him in the wet conditions, using the wetter line on the outside that, though normally unused, actually served her far better than the racing line. He remembered the moment clear as day, and was wise to it.

Speaking of Kallen, it was perhaps appropriate that the one person less pleased with proceedings than Suzaku was her. He had seen the wreckage, with the rear wing buried in the Armco, suspension snapped and wheels hanging on by the tethers, front end facing towards the circuit. It was abandoned but for the crane attempting to remove it, with its driver nowhere to be seen. Indeed, the driver was nowhere to be seen, as the international press sought to interview her. She had now not scored in two races, which Suzaku imagined wasn't doing her confidence any good. He'd heard the radio exchange from someone who wanted his thoughts as a driver, and his initial impressions were poor. She had sounded absolutely miserable, almost speechless and audibly in tears. He knew better than to comment, but it bode ill for her form.

And, to borrow Lelouch's hat, it bode well for their championships.

However, no championships would be won by losing first place to a strategy mistake, and so as Suzaku walked down the length of the paddock towards his garage, he put this personal drama out of his mind and moved down towards the white and gold striping. The front area contained the car, being dismantled and packaged for the journey to Canada, with the Grand Prix in two weeks. He gave a courtesy nod on his way through to the mechanics, before moving towards the back, below the VIP booth and down towards the strategy and IT rooms, all part of the area rented by Charles Zi Britannia and leased by him to the teams.

Suzaku, having been part of the team for a year, had long gone past knocking on doors under entry, and so pulled at the knob and stepped inside, hearing the ends of the conversation already underway.

"…and so while there-"

Suzaku's intrusion was the death sentence for that paragraph, as the room, all gathered around the central table, stopped to look at the young driver. Present were Schneizel, head of the teams main financial sponsor ASEEC, Lloyd Asplund, Cecile Croomy, and the senior management of the team, to name but a few of those present.

Though, interestingly, no drivers.

Cecile sighed, and, cutting across the table, said "Suzaku, why don't you sit down?"

Uncertain, he paused like a deer in headlights before snapping back to his senses, and moved towards the seat in the corners. All present looked immensely uncomfortable, an ironic solidarity with Suzaku, who had no idea what was going on.

Shaking his head almost imperceptibly, Schneizel continued.

"As I was saying, while there is a significant amount of success within this unit, and a great deal of potential in its assets, it is no longer a financially viable investment, and so my associates and I will be withdrawing our sponsorship at the end of the season."

Lloyd, as exasperated as Suzaku had ever seen him, responded "Look over there, Schneizel! Look at that young man looking dopey on that seat! The Jap! Take a look!"

The room turned to Suzaku, who, in spite of taking umbridge at being described as dopey, and certainly more than a little cross at Lloyd's unconscious slur, was far too invested in the point to contest its presentation.

"That young man is driving one of the sharpest cars on the field to wins and has a shot at the championship! Surely you'd want the ASEEC name on its nose when that happens!"

"Your recent pace has not eluded me, Asplund." Schneizel replied. "This has nothing to do with that. You could be dominating the grid and this decision would stand. It is simply not financially viable to continue supporting this venture."

"I don't understand." Lloyd pleaded. "This team is as efficiently run as it can get! This Formula is demanding, yes, but as a consequence its exposure is immense! No other association gets this many eyeballs on its sponsors."

"That may be, but return on investment is about more than income. At present, the rules reinvent themselves almost every year. In this season alone, a new engine layout was mandated, requiring us to scrap all the research done into the previous model and dumping millions of Euros into a new engine. Every year a new car must be researched, designed, and manufactured to a new, arbitrary standard, with new components and new design processes, all of which may be redundant in two years when the next regulation change occurs. This means that the costs for me to continue my support of this team are inflated enormously. I'm sorry, but at present there is no way for me to justify the cost of this venture."

"We can see about reducing costs, anything-"

"I'm sorry, but this is my notification, not a meeting wherein an equitable arrangement is to be negotiated. We will withdraw at the end of the year, and my presence here is to simply alert you to that reality. Good day."

With that, Schneizel moved to leave the room, with Lloyd in too shocked a state to intervene. Suzaku had watched the scene unfold from his chair in silence, and found himself in a similar state to Lloyd. The problems he had come to complain about were suddenly minimised as it dawned on him that the team was about to face significant issues regarding its continued existence.

Schneizel, with significant interests in military contracts, had been the title sponsor of the Rosenberg team since its inception, using it as a vehicle for aerodynamic research. His group was responsible for over sixty percent of their sponsorship income, and without him, the team would not be able to make it to the grid unless a new sponsor was found.

Suzaku looked down at the floor as Lloyd went off, presumably to try and find some way to deal with the news. Cecile seemed eager to try to restore order, ordering people back to their posts to try and get people back to work as the news sank in. Slowly, mechanics and accountants were ushered back to their absentminded duties, all clearly plagued by other concerns.

Once the room was moving once again, Cecile turned her attention to Suzaku. Suzaku knew that she would be concerned about him, being one of the two main focal points for the teams performance, and keeping his morale high would, in her mind, be of the highest importance. Knowing this, Suzaku could guess at the gist of what she would say.

"Look, I know it looks bad, but chin up. Just because he isn't renewing doesn't mean that his existing contract will be annulled. We're still sponsored till the end of the season, and while we won't get his funds after Brazil, that's in six months. We'll find a sponsor by then. We'll just need to cut back on expenditure to tide us through the off season. It's going to be okay."

Cecile smiled, putting on a brave face, and for her sake Suzaku nodded, but he knew that the situation was far more tenuous than she presented.

Of course, it was not as if he would have to change. It was ironic that the solution for Suzaku was to not change, in spite of his earlier notes. If he put in good drives and worked hard, results and sponsors would follow. Success would follow from endeavour like night followed day.

And that was something to smile about, as Suzaku did not lack the capacity for endeavour.

* * *

Indeed, in placing his car in P2 in Qualifying two weeks later, lining up immediately behind Kallen on the Circuit de Gilles Villeneuve, he felt that he was maintaining such a capacity. Although he lost pole position by a tenth of a second to his countrywoman, who by this point had collected every pole start but one so far in this season, he was closing the gap to her bombastic one lap pace, and, as the saying went, the points were given out on the Sunday, and not the Saturday.

As to the woman herself, she had indeed disappeared off the face of the earth for a time following Monaco, however she had collected herself after a few hours and arrived at Canada publicly acknowledging she had it all to do. Looking at her pole lap to find potential gains, Suzaku could not see any hints of hesitation or lift that would indicate a change in approach.

She barrelled into turn one at over two hundred miles per hour, braking unfathomably late and carrying much more speed into the corner itself. She loaded all the forces and momentum of the car onto the front wheels, and used the lightened rear to slide the car far faster around the corner than it had any right to. It was inefficient, ballsy as all hell, and required perfect execution, however she had just squirmed the car round the bottleneck, and found the time needed to snatch pole at a circuit that marginally favoured the Rosenberg.

Lining up behind them was Gino Weinberg in third, desperate to get his season underway, Marrybel in fourth, and Lelouch in fifth.

Not that Lelouch cared, Suzaku noted. The championship leader was still on a visible high after winning what was, to all intents and purposes, his home race, and arguably the most prestigious at that. For Lelouch, it was a dream come true, however more importantly it was mission accomplished, for reasons that were, for Suzaku, initially unintuitive.

The media at large shared in the Occitan's euphoria, suddenly realising his existence in a collective shock. Editorials positing him as a genuine contender emerged from out of thin air, wondering if his guile and Prost-like fixation on the maths of the sport could see him steal a championship out from under the noses of the two prodigies of his generation.

Suzaku did held a puritan view of gambling, but if he were to start, his maiden bet would be against such a possibility, and in all probability Lelouch would agree with him.

Lelouch had never been ambiguous in his goals, at least in private. Motorsports, as with everything in his life, was a means to an end. While he genuinely enjoyed winning Bahrain and Monaco, what was more important was what they did for him. Lelouch had been the centre of attention, receiving interviews, invitations, and personal sponsor offers, all of which would serve him when he left the sport and moved on to his next scam.

Perhaps that was too harsh a phrasing, Suzaku reflected. Perhaps it was better said that Lelouch had already internalised an understanding that he would not, in the long term, be a worldly driver, and in light of that was looking to see what he could spin this success into elsewhere, to see how he could adapt and use it to springboard a more successful venture elsewhere.

It was inherently his limitation, in Suzaku's view. In having calculated that he lacked the skill to win a championship, he no longer yearned for it, and his long term aspirations lay aboard. Not only did this serve his focus within racing poorly, but, as far as Suzaku was concerned, it was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

While a self belief would not make a slow driver fast, winning championships had an immense psychological component. One had to believe they had the ability to do it if they were to have the capacity to sustain a campaign, and Lelouch's approach conceded that belief from the get go. In trying to build an exit strategy, he was fumbling the goal in the here and now.

Of course, this was Suzaku's perspective, and Suzaku wanted to win a championship. From Lelouch's perspective, his plan was going swimmingly. He and his brother had received unprecedented press, with the latter moving from a possible Formula 2 seat to a probable seat. With all the fees and commissions he was undoubtedly receiving, Nunnally's healthcare would now shrink to a minor financial concern. Lelouch was achieving the goals he had set out, even if they were not what Suzaku would consider the goals of the sport.

Of course, while Lelouch would lack the psychological drive to push to the margins to win at all costs, as a championship did not lurk in the depths of his subconscious as a driving force, he was still ahead of Suzaku in the points standings, and his pace could not be discounted.

Four points. Four points and Suzaku would have regained control, would be setting the pace. There was few things Suzaku desired more, which would be why he would win. It would fulfil itself.

"Alright Suzaku, ten second board is out, ready for the off. Temperatures are good, all signs are nominal, all set to go. Good luck into turn one, and we'll see you at the first pit stop."

Suzkau's eyes raised from his cockpit, and abandoned all thought. Many drivers noted that there was a moment during the build up to a race where any thoughts unrelated to the drive flushed away, and the driving became everything. For some, it was when they put on the gloves, for others, it was when they gripped the wheel between their hands. Suzaku's moment was always when the ten second warning board was dangled out over the edge of the pit wall, drawing attention to the red lights, now lighting in sequence.

Suzaku took a deep breath, and focused his eyes on a point in the distance, the lights in his peripheral vision. He let the air out, and was empty.

* * *

 **Anyone who suffered through For Hearts And Minds will be familiar with my propensity to analyze character motivations, and this is not helped by my recent diversion into legal studies, which requires more than a small amount of direct speech and elaboration. I hope you can humour me in this capacity, as my tangent here is in service of plot threads that will unfold in later chapters.**

 **Of course, some of this is invariably more obvious than other elements. Rosenbergs future is in one sense already written, however there is a sting in it. The other is less immediately apparent, however suffice to say things are moving substantially within this championship and beyond.**

 **This fic is not dead, and, given that I have planned out its entire course to conclusion it is unlikely I will ever be in a position to declare it dead before its completion, however my progress has been demonstrably stunted by my studies, and so, while this text is never outside my thoughts completely, its writing will be undertaken whenever convenient, which may not necessarily lead to consistent uploads. At the very least, this serves as an object lesson that my previous approach was better in that there was no such concerns when I wrote in bulk.**

 **In any case, don't call it a comeback, and please, please review. It means a great deal, and gives me immense drive.**

 **~Eth0**


	24. OK24 - A Darker Ebb

**OK Number Twenty Four - The Darker Ebb**

* * *

As far as Kallen was concerned, the less that was said about Canada, the better. She bogged down off the line, allowing Suzaku to pull ahead into turn one. Trying to at least hold onto second, she swung in across Gino, who stormed up her inside into turn two, and made contact, with her front wing getting hit by his tyre wall, and the end-plate flew off. While she neither span nor crashed out, she was forced to pit immediately to replace her nose, putting her to the back.

However, this was Canada, and unlike Monaco the 4.3 kilometres of Montreal tarmac facilitated a significant amount of overtaking. She was able to use her cars natural pace to charge from last to fifth, without any safety car to help bunch up the field. Gino had won from Suzaku and Lelouch respectively. Certainly, it was remarked by individuals who considered themselves the height of wit that at least she was now finishing races, which was an improvement.

However, Kallen was not even as charitable as this. It was all she could do to not rage at the wheel when her front wing broke, as she felt the deep sickening that it had happened to her again. She had finished with points, but, with Suzaku finishing second behind his teammate Marrybel, she had lost out overall, and it was her fault.

Aware of what had happened in Japan when she overcompensated, she had managed to maintain some manner of cool out on track, more tired than anything else. She was just desperate to put points on the board, and that exhaustion with the current funk she found herself in drove her to a half-hearted finish.

She did not say a word getting out of the car, having sat and simmered for some time. By the time she raised herself out of the cockpit, there was a palpable tension about the room, and no one dared approach her for fear of being yelled at.

It was probably justified, Kallen supposed. She was bitter, furious, and pent up, and it was entirely self directed. She felt an immense pressure in her chest, and her head felt as if it was moments for catching fire. It took all she had to not simply flail her arms and legs in frustration, to rock her head and roar out, and if a mechanic approached her with critical commentary, it may well be said that she would truly lose it, and it would be entirely her fault.

Again.

And so, there was an awkward, terse silence as Kallen slowly untangled herself from the piping, the drinks hose, and the suffocating HANS, slowly removing her helmet, and finally exposing her face. She felt her facial features stiffen, and she could visualise the vicious scowl that was doubtless being presented to the hapless engineers.

There was a standoff of sorts, as she paused in the centre of the garage, all eyes on her. Her jaunty, off centre stance was fretfully examined, as her eyes shifted in turn. They almost certainly had their own sentiments and opinions as they watched their hard work be crashed, mishandled, and wasted. They hid it for fear of vicious reprisal on Kallen's part, but Kallen knew it was there. After all, she couldn't imagine how cross she would be with them if the positions were switched. She was cross with herself as was.

Shaking her head, she turned heel and walked back towards her private room in the rear of the garage, linking through to her trailer. Heading for the latter, she refused to speak a word to the press waiting in the gap between, closing the door behind her as she climbed in.

Finally, she was alone, in the cold and quiet of the articulated trailer that lasted perhaps ten seconds, before she ripped off her gloves and hurled them as hard as she could at the wall.

"Chikushō! Fuck, fuck fuuuuckkkkk!"

The swears varied in volume, pitch, spirit, aggression, tone, and content, but none lacked a shared venom and underlying frustration. Some were roars, hollered out into the vacuum, where all the air in her lungs was summoned to exhume the built up anger, all the rage and hate within herself bellowed out as she killed her voice.

Others, perhaps as a consequence, were quiet, and hoarse, as her understanding of the situation folded over on top of itself as the depth of her screw ups seemed to grow and grow, adding layers to the weight pressing down on her like a diamond on the ocean floor. How could she let this happen? Each expletive tried to reach at some answer, in vain.

Blew the win in Bahrain. Trying to make up for that, she nearly died in Japan. As a consequence, she faced a grid penalty at Monaco, where grid position was paramount. Attempting to compensate, she pushed too hard and crashed again. Feeling the championship slipping away, she tried to win the race at turn one in Canada and got a broken front wing for her troubles. In trying to catch up by pushing harder, she had directly made the gap grow. It was like quicksand; the harder she struggled, the deeper she sank.

And right now, as she felt the tears drip down onto her hands, was pretty damn deep.

Forty-four points. With Suzaku on top form, and Lelouch playing his cards very cannily, catching that gap was going to be an immense challenge. That was not even considering that she would have to turn around her performance before she could even begin to make inroads.

This was all assuming the team, seeing that one of their drivers was in a much better position to contest the title, began to weigh its resources more heavily in Lelouch's favour. It would be the rational decision to make, looking at the points and performance gap thus far.

The longer she thought about it, the worse it got. Kallen shook all over. What a disaster.

That was when the door knocked.

It would take someone awfully brave or awfully stupid to knock when Kallen was liable to bite their head off, and such an occurrence was so surprising to her that she was stunned into forgetting her rage as she lamely went to get the door, almost as if reverting to default. However, her brain clicked back into gear when she saw that, at the foot of the garage, there stood the innocent earnesty of Gino Weinberg.

She blinked. What did he want? If it were Taizo, or Naoto, perhaps it may make sense, and even Lelouch may have been a possibility depending on whatever schemes he was hatching, but Gino, though they were on good terms, puzzled her. Had he lost something?

She considered this for some time, before it occurred to her that the only way she would find out was if she actually answered rather than speculated. Again rather lamely, she pulled open the door and asked "Do you need something?"

Gino, charged with the confidence of gods, pushed past her initial lack of enthusiasm for his presence and asked "Do you mind if I come in?"

Blinking, and somewhat defused, she shrugged and replied "Free country."

Gino nodded, and climbed up the folding stairs into the coach behind the redhead, ducking his head beneath the top to clamber inside the bedroom stroke kitchen. Nodding, he asked "Do you have any beer on you?"

Kallen blinked in surprise before smirking and nodding towards the cooler in the bottom corner. As he moved towards it, she cautioned "Don't push your luck asshole."

Gino selected a glass bottle of whiskey before settling onto the couch in the back, settling down as Kallen stood in the centre of the room, looking down at him from across the way, before she asked "So what did you want, apart from my alcohol?"

"Well first off-" Gino began, "Given that the team have confiscated my stash, I appreciate your generosity."

"Delighted to be of service." Kallen snarked in reply.

Gino paused, wiping sweat off his face. The race was still fresh, and both drivers were tired, with Kallens earlier anger being all that sustained her brief fit of rage. Gino, lacking such fuel, looked as if you would be loath to try and peel him off the sofa. However, once his face was cleared, he continued.

"I wanted to apologise."

Confused, Kallen took her turn to pause, before replying "For the beer? It's grand. I've got bigger problems-"

Gino waved the point off, literally swatting at the air to dismiss Kallen's line of thought, before replying "No, forget the beer. I'm sorry about running into you on lap one."

Kallen froze again, focusing on the figure across the way in confusion, before replying "What are you on about?"

Gino took a moment to down the neck of the whiskey, before elaborating "Turn two, I'm pulling up your inside and sniffing about for the position. I don't have the grip to make it work, and my front end swashes out wide and into your front wing, spoiling your race. Shouldn't have kept it in, so I'm sorry."

"But…" Kallen tried, as she relived the opening lap. She had tried to hold the outside, desperate to hold the position and had even tried to cut across to deny Gino a route through. Was he running wide with understeer? That would mean-

"It wasn't my-"

Gino frowned, and asked "Your what? Your fault? Rubbish. I just knew that you've had a run of bad luck and I thought that it was worth noting that this one wasn't on you."

Kallen's chest fell uncertainly, her breath dropping in petering shivers. It was quite the revision of her viewing of the situation for which she had berated herself. The whole frame of the situation, from repeated failures to interspersed, was a significant shift that carried emotions she couldn't quite put words to.

"But this…"

Gino leaned forward, his face dropping with concern as he asked "Are you alright mate?"

Kallen's head dipped a bit, her lips pursing and eyes fixing on the floor, before tilting slightly with uncertainty. This was followed by a loud breath out, as she mulled over the possibility of letting Gino in on what was happening.

"I've… it's…"

"Take your time mate, you don't need to say anything you don't want to." he reassured, seeming ill at ease, arm extended out with palm facing downwards, as if trying to cool and calm Kallen, who was looking in equal parts torn and bitter.

"No, no… it's just…" Kallen restarted, before shaking her head and giving it one more go.

"I'm a mess. I can't go half a lap without bashing something, and the deeper the hole gets, the more I have to climb out of, and the more I have to climb, the harder I try to push, push, push the car to make it up, and then the car can't take it and I get deeper. But what the hell else am I meant to do?"

Gino nodded, though he did not initially speak up until he was certain Kallen was finished, until she stood breathless and close to tears. After ensuring he wouldn't be interrupting, and choosing his words with immense care, he began a reply.

"I was, for the last two years, team mates with Cornelia McGlynn. She always pulled ahead of me in the early season, with the gap growing and growing and I would always feel a desperate sinking as with each year, with each equal start and opportunity to clinch a championship, I fell further behind. While I didn't react by pushing, it got to me in other ways. It was not brilliant. Of course, I never did pull it back, but my point is that when I say what I'm about to say, I'm coming from a place where I know what you're on about."

Kallen looked up, curious as to where Gino was going to bring this.

"I've two suggestions. First, let's get out of this trailer."

Kallen, taken aback, gave a dubious look, inferring a hostile confusion as to this prospect. She was red from tears and fresh from an awful race. What was he planning?

"We're going to get some ice cream. Doctors orders."

Blinking, Kallen, now quite outraged, asked "What will that solve?"

Gino smiled, and replied "Nothing's being solved in here, not with us crying and worrying. Productivity follows from having a clear head, and ice cream was the first thing that came to mind. Wipe up the tears and we'll head off."

Kallen was hesitant, but couldn't find anything obvious to rebut and try and fight it, and so, reluctantly, she grabbed her coat, and followed Gino out into the sunlight.

It had been a dry race, and the weather remained mild as they walked privately through the maze of trailers and trucks, loading up the machinery and equipment anonymously as the circus wound down. With hats and oversized overcoats they looked like curious fans, and were unmolested as they moved towards the food stalls at the edge of the Ile Notre-Dame. The atmosphere was tired, as the spectators slowly flowed out like the last few drops of coffee, barely awake after having been in a state of excitement and anticipation for so long.

Kallen stayed alongside Gino, eyes cast downwards, as he ordered a pair of ice creams, not being phased by the waiter, who asked for a signature in an excited voice. He was a fantastic actor, Kallen acknowledge, always exuberant, even when, as he had mentioned, he had felt less than chipper while being beaten by Cornelia. Kallen had never once noticed, as the lanky blonde had never let on anything other than a toothy grin and a chuckle.

"Here ya go." he said, maintaining his smile, green eyes sparkling as he handed over the cone to a dubious recipient, before making a start on his own, as he walked over to a bluff and sat, just past the first chicane.

Curious as to what his intentions were, she sat beside him and ate. The exposed position was subject to surprising winds, but they had a view of all of Montreal as they sat in silence, eating the desserts. Time passed without event, with even Gino not speaking, only trying to block the wind with strategic positioning of his coat, to mixed and occasionally hilarious results.

It was only once the wafer was dispensed with and fingers were licked clean that Kallen finally spoke up, asking "Gino, what are we doing here?"

He took a moment to answer, picking his words again carefully, before replying "I wanted, primarily to get you doing something that meant you weren't thinking about the race. I always find sitting quietly enjoying something sweet, I just forget about everything. Really cools the head. When the race was all you were able to think about, you were really distraught, and couldn't think straight. I thought that relaxing out here may help."

Kallen nodded. The quiet of the Quebecois knolls and sweet taste had soothed her considerably, and let her mind engage with her choices ahead, now that she had had a chance to unwind in a more relaxed, social environment.

Gino, as much as she hated to admit it, had had a point. That was worth a bottle of whiskey. She sat in quiet contemplation, as Gino teased out a possibility.

"Try and… not think about it. Not the driving, obviously, but the championship. Just drive your best drive at each event, and good things will come. Once you've a bit of momentum back under your belt, you can look more positively at the standings, but right now it's not doing you any good."

Kallen didn't respond, instead staring out into the distance. For the first time in weeks, everything was quiet, with neither someone else nor her own inner monologue, just herself, a helpful but unknowing Gino, and a grassy hill. Quiet, peaceful.

There was nothing and no one. It was almost impossible to get cross, to get hot and boiled over in the infinite space. Kallen took a deep breath as she stared out, empty but for two scoops of ice cream. Suddenly, with the fear and anxiety having been briefly forgotten, she settled into a cool observation of its slow regrowth, able to sit and indeed watch it, as she watched the city.

She breathed again, and watched it retreat, like the growth and shrinkage of a lung as oxygen rushed in to fuel it. It ebbed, but the cool northern air tempered it. It settled, and suddenly Kallen eased. Her heart rate was at a low ebb, and she was in control. She would win one race. She would win another. And so on, until the championship was hers. She had the skill, all it took was the focus.

Focus, focus. The word, contextualised, caused the worries to grow, but given their manageable size Kallen was able to quiet them. They were antithetical to success. She would detach herself from them, and allow them to sink alone.

"It's time to go back."

Gino was indeed right, however in a broader sense than he perhaps intended. Stepping out of the void required a literal stepping out, and as she studied it clinically, she found she could not agree more with his prognosis. She closed her eyes, and chuckled, her crows feet extending as she felt a surge of confidence. As long as there stood a mathematical chance, not all hope was lost, and she would drive as well as she could until that was no longer true. Each race was its own, and she would drive to win it, and not try to win three others at the same time. And with this new calm, that would be enough.

Kallen Kozuki was back.

* * *

 **Onwards then, to Hungary! With Lelouch at 95 points, Suzaku at 94, and Kallen at 51 what with all her errors, can she catch up what is almost two whole race wins worth of a deficit in the remaining nine races? Can she maintain this cool drive, and focus, allowing herself to let go of small frustrations and exhibit her skill on the Sunday? Will Suzaku's consistency allow him to maintain the gap? Or will Lelouch thread the needle? Tune in next time to find out, as we return to the circuit after what I'll admit to be a long spell off the tarmac. I wanted to do some character development, and now that we're all caught up, it'll be all six cylinders propelling us forwards through this season! Please review to let me know what you make of these developments, who you're backing to win, and any other commentaries you'd like to make! It means a great deal.**

 **~Eth0**


	25. OK25 - Survive

**OK Number 25 - Survive**

* * *

The calm of the Canadian hills was once again upon Kallen, even if the context was quite different. Sat in the cocoon of her cockpit, gloves resting on top of the wheel as she waited for her call to go out to the grid, she called back that same feeling, and allowed it to flow through her, relaxing her muscles and concerns about catching. There would only be this race, and she would win it. She took a deep breath as the engine span into life behind her, whirring up, turbocharger wheezing and cylinders bombing up and down, which would give her the power she needed to take victory at the plains of Mogyorod.

This certainty gave a reinforcing confidence, blocking out the memory of races past, which filled her with a quiet determination and a steely gaze down the nose of her car as the mechanic stood in front of the car gestured to his left before leaping out of the way.

With dry tyres, her sixth pole position of the season, and a revitalised hope, it was time to go.

She clicked the gearbox into first, holding in the hand operated clutch until she saw that the way was clear, letting it then slip aggressively to draw the car out of its hiding and out into the light of day, letting it slide down pit lane at the speed limit. Following the markers, she let the natural torque of the hybrid engine carry the car under tick over, confident in its capacity to avoid a stall, before passing the exit line and beginning the parade lap.

In her mirror, she saw the rows of cars behind her line up as she rounded turn one, all feeling out the track for the first time on their way around. It was cold, with the tyres exhibiting little flex. There was an uncertainty in their movements that bode ill, as Kallen experimented with the grip imbued in the circuit. However, Kallen felt confident until it hit her helmet.

A drop, liquid, and clear. It was neither poison nor mechanical; it was far worse.

It was a drop of rain.

She saw the water drip down the lip of her visor, streaking slowly from just beyond her eyebrow down to her nose, and further. This would throw a massive wrench into the stability of the race, as now all strategy would be thrown out in favour of who could read the conditions. A safe pole in one of Kallen's better tracks was now at the mercy of the weather.

"What's going on with the conditions?" she asked as she tried to brake and manoeuvre heavily to bring some heat into her brakes and tyres for all the good it would do. It took a moment for Ohgi to respond, and even then he was less than helpful.

"I'm not certain… I'm not seeing anything, but weather here is very sudden. Humidity is high, be aware."

Kallen shook her head as she rode the car off the camber of turn three, observing understeer as she counted a second, a third drop of rain off her helmet. It was sparse, but each new droplet sent Kallen into greater certainty. All she wanted was a simple race, but she wouldn't get it. However. This was just the start, and by the time the train rounded the final corner, the rain had grown to a consistent drizzle.

"Still not certain Ohgi?" Kallen wrily noted as she approached the starting line, having accepted her fate.

"Okay, okay, we're past pit lane entry but you can box for intermediates at the end of lap one. Lelouch is starting from pit lane, so he'll be at the back but he will be on the intermediate tyres from the get go. You're on the dry tyre, so be cautious, keep the tyres hot, and good luck."

As the grid, minus one Frenchman, lined up behind Kallen, she focused her attention to the first corner as the red lights counted down to the start of the race.

Five, four, ready the clutch, two, rev up, and… the lights were out!

Kallen let out the clutch as gently as she dared, but even so the slick tyres span up, with standing water having already formed within the grooves in the tarmac. The rain had arrived in earnest within two minutes of Kallens first sighting of water, and now masses of the stuff were being kicked up in her wake as the rear wheels tried to find some purchase, a spot of traction that they could launch themselves off. The rain was gentle in its hazy, soft character, seeming content to settle about the air rather than hurl itself into the deck, but it was volumous, and enough of it had amassed about the track to make the start a challenge in patience and throttle control.

However, everyone was at the same disadvantage, and as the grid crawled towards turn one, Kallen retained the lead. Turning in early, Kallen still felt the tyres aquaplane, as they sailed across the top layer of water that had settled on the tarmac. Feeling the front tyres fail to bite, Kallen gave the throttle a squirt to rotate the car about the turn. The car obliged, spinning just so to turn the car in the right direction, at the cost of momentum and longitudinal grip, with her forward speed killed.

Able to use the natural downwards slope of the track to fire the car down the second straight and maintain the lead, with the whole grid wallowing frictionless, with the cold wet track as grippy as ice.

The grid made it to turn two cleanly, however as she understeered through the wide, constant radius ring she observed behind her a car spinning out wide into the grass and walloping the barrier. With the field bunched up at such low speed, it was unsurprising that the low grip conditions meant people were bumping and scraping against one another, as their control of the cars was minimal.

This desperate flailing continued as the grid crawled back to the pits. However, as she moved up towards the end of the lap, she saw Lelouch, who had not gone out to the grid, and had instead opted to go back to the pits, get new tyres, and start from the pit lane exit. This meant he started last, however he had already caught up with his intermediate tyres, which meant that as she moved towards the pit lane, Lelouch came around at over two times her speed, buzzing past her outside as she approached the entry.

However, as he passed by, he cut across her on his way into the corner, forcing her to brake aggressively to avoid running into his sidepod. She locked up the front wheels in avoiding him, and rode over the outside kerb of pit lane, and back onto the racing line.

With the rest of the entry walled off, Kallen realised that she had in fact slid past the entry to the pits entirely, and would not be able to switch to intermediate tyres this lap.

She shook her head, but, not being able to go back, decided to get on with the job. She would lose a lot of time over this lap as the rest of the field pitted to the better tyre, and it was important she didn't push too hard to make up for it.

However, even navigating the circuit at a crawl was now a challenge. This shuu had grown to a full blown rain shower, and the rain which had settled in a gentle mist had now grown a weight and force in their campaign south, pounding away in a visible drizzle. As she arrived at the first corner for the second time, she made a point of approaching it extremely slowly and tiptoeing around the puddles which were now forming as the standing water exponentially grew.

Kallen could not have driven slower if she tried, and yet was at the limits of grip, barely able to tickle the throttle in fifth gear without losing the rear wholesale, and it nearly caused her to lose her head in frustration. However even as she saw the pack behind, who had already completed a pit stop and come back out again, come into view in her rear view mirrors, she kept it cool, and was rewarded as she entered the third to last corner, and saw a curious sight; the other Rebellion car, out on the grass, facing the wrong way.

Kallen had to do a double take as she eased into the sharp ninety degree turn, watching Lelouch spin up his intermediate tyres in the mud as he slid back onto the circuit. He had survived his off track excursion, however it was foreboding that even with his grippier rubber he had span off the black stuff in these conditions. However, she was just about able to pull herself towards the pit lane, just as Suzaku and Marrybel came up to take the lead off her. She had lost a pit stops worth of time, around twenty seconds, in one lap. However, it was only lap 2, and it seemed as if anything could happen.

With a second shot at it, Kallen was able to finally nail the pit lane entry, dragging the front end of the car into pit lane and finally get a fresh set of boots. As the green striped intermediates were swapped on, she leant on the throttle to hop out, and was met with satisfactory bite. Rolling out, she ventured back onto the track, going out into the unknown.

However, it was not unknown for long, as Ohgi radioed her with an urgent voice.

"Everybody is going off into turn one, huge, huge caution, there is extreme amounts of standing water, we have four cars span out at turn one already, approach with extreme care."

Kallen was barely able to digest this information before two cars, already up to speed having blazed down the straight, streaked past her side by side into the braking zone. The one covering the inside braked first, however something went wrong and Kallen could only watch as the driver lost the rear end, and the car pirouetted into the driver next to them, causing them to both skate straight off the road not fifty meters from where Kallen sat, gently nursing the throttle as she took in the scene.

The two cars slid as one unit into the grass, but they were not alone; they were joined by several other visible cars. The healthy amounts of grass and gravel run off meant none were wrecks, but the odds of incoming traffic running into the stranded cars was immense, and that could prove lethal.

Kallen tiptoed into the corner, and immediately felt out the wet patches, where the resistance of the steering wheel would vanish and the car would slide in whatever direction it was already headed, without recourse. She was hardly surprised that the others were flying off the track unsighted; they would lose traction, and as soon as they made a sudden move, would be doomed to spin away like a top into the gravel.

She finally managed to slow into the corner without joining them, and with the new grooved tyres could make the turn in, and make it past the stragglers. However, she didn't make it far before she saw a safety car sign light up as the marshals were faced with a menagerie of cars stacking up at the exit of the first turn.

Able to slice through the water and feel out the grip, Kallen came up around the queue of drivers lined up behind the safety car, as Marianne Vi Britannia kept the pack in a slow, tight bunch to allow the marshals to work safely. With diggers and cranes at the ready outside the track perimeter, they were quickly able to relieve the stricken racers and drag them back onto the track where they rejoined the circulating field, albeit a lap down. Only one car was damaged beyond raceworthiness, that being Li Xingke's Geely, having run headlong into the armco.

Thankfully, no drivers or marshals were hurt.

As the marshalls concluded their business, the Marianne continued to guide the pack safely around, however, as the time ticked along, there was an increasingly severe problem. The rain was getting heavier, and as the track became more and more slippery, the pace of Kallen and the other racing drivers diminished, to the point that Marianne was now driving away too fast, and Suzaku, who was at the front of the field, couldn't keep up.

Kallen gritted her teeth, seeing her drive away, and called on the radio "We need the safety car to slow down, we can't keep at this pace on these tyres. We need to drop the pace for a bit."

Ohgi reported back that the stewards were in contact with Marianne with instructions to that effect, however the safety car was returning to pit lane at the end of the lap, making the exercise redundant. As the field prepared to return to racing, it bunched up further, with Kallen almost able to reach out and touch the gearbox of Luciano Bradley in front of her.

Tiptoeing around the second to last corner, the crowd awaited the green flag, which dropped as Kallen wallowed into the apex without warning, however it was not as if Luciano was sprinting off anywhere, as he struggled to put down the power. The rain, it was obvious, was now approaching torrential categories, and the diabolical amounts of wheelspin on Luciano's car were proof, as they threw up water without purchase all the way through third and fourth gear. Kallen, with a bit more nous in the rain, was able to moderate the throttle marginally more successfully, but she was left with the best house on a bad street, and only made incremental gains into the last corner.

However, it didn't matter. As Luciano splashed through the last corner, he accelerated out of the corner at the apex, which was his mistake. As the rear wheels lost traction, his car began to slip out of his control and the back end flung out sideways, before the car swapped ends completely and came to a complete standstill on the inside of the circuit, missing Kallen by inches.

Startled, Kallen could only chuckle hollowly, with a shiver and a crow of "Goodnight sweet prince.", holding off the throttle until the car was faced straight forward, only opening it once the car was no longer subject to lateral load. This would be an endurance race, and it would take everything they had to just finish.

This point was underscored by the increasing rains, with visible puddles now making up a significant portion of the track surface, and the view ahead was now immensely obscured by the spray kicked up by the cars in front, with only the red tail lights visible in the dense mist thrown up by the cars ahead. The tyres were simply not displacing enough of the surface water from the grooves, displayed perfectly by Kallen herself, who in spite of a cautious approach still was surprised by a lock up into turn two, as she shot off the carousel and into the infield and almost understeered into the barrier, only just keeping her car within her control. She rejoined after regaining control, having last two positions, however this was by no meaningful measure a race, only an exercise in survival.

The downpour was now horrific, and everyone was struggling; it was time for wets, less than half a dozen laps into a race that ran for seventy. However, it would be a challenge to even make it, as the drivers fought through the waterlogged circuit. The struggle was underlined by Suzaku, normally the bastion of consistency and unflagging smoothness, who to Kallen's amazement had spun on the entry to pit lane, having clipped the kerb and had his rear step out, placing his car at a right angle to the slip road into the pits. With the narrow path blocked, Kallen had to wait, sat still at the entry to pit lane, for Suzaku to jab at the throttle to rotate the car about its front wheels, doing a half donut to point his car the right way, and slide, undoubtedly quite embarrassed, into the pit area proper.

"Didn't think Suzaku knew how to do a donut." Ohgi cheekily jabbed, having seen the whole scene unfold. Kallen chuckled as she moved to pit for the blue, extreme wet tyres. The team, soaked to the bone, still dutifully replaced her tyres and sent her away, right on the tail of Suzaku, who was on tyres of equally deep tread, which could carve through the water and displace it to allow the rubber to reach the tarmac as they travelled through standing water, which had already begun to accumulate in the pit lane.

As they passed the pit lane exit line, Kallen took a deep breath and tried the throttle tenderly.

She was rewarded with definite bite, however a wobbling of the wheel was required to keep the car in a straight line as the Type-2/F19-Y shot out into the ocean. However, the rain was keeping pace with the increasing steps in tyres, and now it appeared as if they were in the midst of a rain storm. As Kallen followed Suzaku into turn one, she realised that she could not make out the lines, apex, or track limits of the area, only being able to swim through it with her memory of where the corner should be, following Suzaku's ginger lead.

As they exited the corner and moved down towards the second sector, Kallen observed Suzaku raise his arm out of the cockpit and wave it furiously at the officials, slowing down to gesticulate wildly, with one arm on the steering wheel. His shoulders lifted, with his torso shifted up and his arm now wholly out of the car as he waved and hailed the marshals, aggressively trying to get their attention. It took Kallen longer than she cared to admit to realise what he was doing, only copping on when they went round for another lap and she saw the red flag waving, signalling a halt to the race, presumably to allow the storm to blow over. Suzaku was clearly not comfortable driving in such treacherous conditions, and was prepared to resort to rather primitive methods to communicate this point.

With the racing stopped, the drivers were able to trundle back to pitlane without fear of being overtaken or divebombed at a safe pace, finally coming to a stop in their pit boxes, to remain until the marshals either gave the go ahead to resume racing, or declared the race concluded.

It took twenty minutes for the rain to pause, and another ten for the waterlogged track to drain into the Hungarian plains in large enough swathes to allow the cars to safely return to the track. They would follow the safety car from the pit exit to the end of the first rotation, where the racing would begin again. Following Suzaku gingerly out into the track, Kallen swished the wheel from side to side, teasing out the grip on the wet tyres to see where she could find traction and where she had to avoid. Her response, transmitted through the wheel to her hands, was mixed, as the surface distorted and evolved. The circuit was constantly changing, and as they came around to begin again, Kallen grimly acknowledged that they were once again stepping out into the unknown.

Braving herself, Kallen stood on the brakes into turn one, as the car switched from biting, to slipping, biting, and back to slipping all in the stretch of one corner. Desperate to not go off, she wrenched the steering wheel hard left to stop the car swapping ends, only just avoiding a spin and keeping it on the tarmac, which left her exposed to the car of Viletta Nu, directly behind, and now sneaking up Kallen's inside.

Kallen did not swipe back across, remembering the troubles of Japan and Canada, however she held the outside, which turned to the inside for the next turn. Her caution was rewarded, as Villetta proved to be her own foil, getting too eager in outbraking Kallen into the second corner and spearing off, straight into the barrier. Through the haze, Kallen just about saw the tyres tied to the wall fly up on impact, however the show had to go on for her.

With Nu a non factor, Kallen was now able to look ahead rather than being forced to watch her back, trying to make out Suzaku, who according to Ohgi was two seconds up the road, though trying to sight him was a task.

However, Kallen put her mind to it, immersing herself with the track surface and feeling out the unseen grip. Squirming and shifting about the width of the track from patch to patch of grippy circuit, she bounded up the track like a bizarre game of hopscotch, picking up the pace as her instinctive style came into its own in the conditions that changed at a moment's notice and punished bad habits.

This point was highlighted by the pink Camelot of Kewell Soresi, as the Australian appeared in Kallen's vision, beached on the grass on the exit of the last turn, having likely spun and rolled back beyond the circuit boundaries. Kallen moved through the corner cautiously, not wanting to be caught in whatever did Kewell in.

This was a particularly significant concern given the cars they were driving. To compliment Kallen's dry weather habits, the 2018 car was set up to be inherently unstable and rearward biased, which made it quick to change direction and incredibly twitchy. Kallen knew that the Rosenberg car would likely be set up to drive smoothly and stably to compliment and facilitate his style of handling the car. If that stable layout was spinning, she was in for some trouble ahead.

Indeed, as the laps began to tick away with some overdue consistency, it appeared as if the track surface would not find any such rhythm, as even as they entered the meat of the race Kallen still felt slips and sudden shakes, causing sudden jerks that at times grew to spins. Kallen did not feel that conditions now were much better than before the red flag. However she was just about able to keep it out of the barriers, in spite of moments where she was momentarily out of control, and in the hands of luck.

And today, Kallen was very lucky.

Two people who were not so lucky were Gino and Marrybel. Not that Kallen was initially aware of this, with the fog blocking distant vision, however she was treated to a sudden alert as a flying wheel soared across her vision warning her of catastrophe ahead, before the hull of Gino's wrecked car faded into view, slewing across the width of the track and forcing Kallen to brake aggressively to avoid t-boning him as he skated into the pit wall. He was spinning at incredible speed across the track until he came to an abrupt stop against the steel barrier, just below the pit strategists. His two rear tyres, his entire rear wing, and much of his suspension was scattered about the centre of a track, hinting at a collision with another car.

The exact source of his misfortune was unknown to Kallen until she saw Marrybel rolling down the road but a few meters further on, without a front left tyre or front wing. It must have been a simply hideous shunt, Kallen guessed, and could imagine that Marrybel must have been completely unsighted as she approached the back end of Gino, and was unable to move out of the way until she had hit him.

With all the debris on the track, a second safety car was inevitable, and the cars lined up behind Marianne once again. With Kallen having been in a cloud of visual silence and having been at a loss as to who had crashed, who had spun, and who she was ahead of and behind, at the very least she was now able to see the grid around her bunched up close. While the details were lost to her, she could see that Suzaku was ahead of her again, and there were not very many drivers between her and the highly visible safety car.

Suddenly, Kallen's radio crackled back into life, as Ohgi asked "What are the conditions like, the stewards are concerned."

Just as he asked, Kallen rode over a wet patch, losing braking grip and nearly ploughing into the back of Suzaku. Shaking her head, she sighed "It's too wet… for either tyre, it's too wet for anything. We'd do better with a mast and some oars."

"Understood."

And with that, a red flag was not long in coming, and the safety car guided them back to the pits for the second stop of the race, with forty five laps of seventy still to go.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

 **~Eth0**


	26. OK26 - From The Stormy Centuries

**OK Number 26 - From The Stormy Centuries**

* * *

The scene of hurried tyre changes and prolonged waiting was repeated, as the stadiums lulled, impatiently looking to the clouds, as if urging them to pass. With cameras pointing to the sky, and sweepers mounted to the fronts of golf carts furiously shuffling water off the surface of the circuit, everyone was twitching and eager to go. Even before they left the pit lane, Kallen felt the rear slip slightly as she teased the throttle, more as a function of impatience than track inadequacy. In any case, it was almost four o'clock by the time they were underway, beginning their rotation under safety car about the ring, and it was not a moment too soon; any longer, and they would run out of light by the time the race ended, which would place the continuation of the race to completion into question.

And so, when the safety car peeled off, Kallen didn't waste a moment, tackling the throttle, managing the snap, and firing down after Suzaku. She had faffed around behind him for long enough; it was time to attack, now that conditions had largely abated.

Suzaku covered the outside, likely planning to sweep across the inside line, and Kallen stuck to his gearbox, sitting in the spray for as long as she dared. Spits of oil and rubber flew into the front of her car and splattered her visor, and if Suzaku braked she would be unable to stop, however the clean air, carved out by Suzaku's aerodynamic monster of a profile, meant that Kallen had far less drag while in his wake and could close up to him as they shot towards the first corner, almost as one unit by the end.

It was only at the last moment that she suddenly jerked the wheel right, shifting lanes to point towards the apex from a shallower angle, diving up inside of Suzaku with a surprise challenge under braking. Suzaku broke much earlier, allowing her to skate towards the narrowest point of the corners, slowing down as she turned into it.

She fought to keep the vehicle from skidding off the road completely, managing to halt the seven hundred kilogram hulk of carbon a few feet past the apex, and scurried to rotate the thing, stabbing the throttle to force the car to rotate. Countersteering, she controlled the oversteer, and was round.

However, she was only ahead for now. Having traversed the corner in the smooth, clean fashion, Suzaku had retained speed through the transition from one direction to the other, and had the momentum advantage in the dash to the next corner. Kallen tried to block off the outside of the track with her rear end as she willed her car up to speed, but the speed deficit to Suzaku was too great, as he shifted to the far side of her as the outside kerb turned to the inside of the next corner. Now, with Kallen on the inside as they moved towards the off camber sweeper, Suzaku amazed Kallen by swooping fully around her outside, using his excess speed to complete the move in one stroke, from behind to outside and then around in a single smooth motion.

However, Kallen was not finished with him, as she trailed him through the blind turn that followed, with the car suffering with the dirty air robbing her off downforce, making the car feel light, and lacking in any feel in its grip. It took all the squirrelling with the wheel she could undertake to keep the car from spinning away from her, however she succeeded in gliding the boat through the eye of the needle, before trying again around the outside turn five.

What followed was a long awaited duel. They had not partaken in a one-on-one battle since they both obtained front running, competitive cars, and now the battle was joined. On this lonely, soaked Central European strip of tarmac, it was just Kōzuki, Kururugi, and a grudge to settle.

Through the chicane of six seven, through the high speed kinks of ten eleven, and on approach to thirteen, Kallen was there, pushing, pushing, not allowing the red light at the base of Suzaku's chassis to get an inch further away from her eyeline. Suzaku was at his best, Kallen could tell; his exit of corners was otherworldly, wheelspin was nowhere to be found, and the car looking rock solid. However, Kallen felt, inside her, that she was at her best.

The red light ahead grew hypnotic. She would keep with it. She would not let it go. The car was already at the limits of its grip, squirming and sliding at the entry, apex, and exit, however Kallen pushed beyond, and as if by autopilot just handled the cars motions and sniffs. Gliding over the segments of track Suzaku avoided and forcing the car through the difficulty, Kallen felt as if she was pushing towards some limit, as the front tyres began to scrub up and swash, finding themselves simply unable to rotate her any faster. She could almost reach out and touch the light, pushing with all her might to keep close, before making a move again to the inside of the second to last corner.

Instead of turning in, Kallen held the wheel straight, boxing off Suzaku, only turning into the corner as she approached the outside boundaries of the circuit. With Suzaku trapped between this boundary and Kallen's sidepod, he could only begin to turn once Kallen had left the space, by which time she had already turned by some measure. As she rushed to the last corner, she was ahead.

However, she could not rest easily, as Suzaku was methodical in bringing the gap back down. Not two corners later, and he was filling up her mirrors, and with Suzaku, she knew he would not make a mistake; he would hang back, consistent and unflappable until he decided to make a move.

He finally struck into the chicane, sliding in a controlled manner up her inside and hogging the apex, trundling through the narrowest slice of track and undramatically returning to his position ahead of Kallen. The red light now returned to view, and like a bull, Kallen chased the matador.

And so they rotated, fighting for the lonely position about the anonymous circuit. The rain continued, and vision was abysmal, but neither driver cracked. They could not see their surroundings, and over the course of the fight did not encounter any other drivers. It may well have been just the two of them in the whole world. In fact, it was quite comforting to think about it in that way.

Suzaku would swing around the outside, holding on against all odds to the long way around to swoop past Kallen with a firm, stoic grasp of the wheel. Kallen would in turn give chase, provoking all four tyres and destabilising the car to push it beyond its designed capacity before slipping it into the narrowest gaps, pushing beyond all efforts to thread past. Suzaku would swing a clean left hook in the Queensbury tradition, to which Kallen would respond with a series of quick jabs, as they grappled for a corner, for a kerb, for an inch.

Positions were traded by the corner, as they struck, and swooped, in and out, back and forth, with each driver momentarily gaining an advantage. Kallen could feel the beginnings of a nosebleed as she physically forced the car, shuffling it along with a literal exertion to get just a few more kilometres per hour. She was as integral to the cars onward thrust as its engine or its tyres.

The laps ticked along, counting down into the crunch zone, however the two Japanese racers were inseparable, with Suzaku and Kallen both leaving nothing on the table. Neither could build a gap or disentangle themselves from the other by their own powers.

So, when they eventually did, it surprised them both. Out of nowhere, Suzaku's rear right tyre rapidly delaminated, breaking apart down its long central axis and breaching, forcing him to pit for new tyres, while Kallen, whose wet tyres were still manageable, could in theory reach the end of the race, whenever that was. It was a surprise splitting that clearly ruffled Suzaku, sending him swaying as he trundled back. Kallen, now alone, drove on.

While it was not quite as apocalyptically wet as it had been, there was even now, with Suzaku now a long ways back, a new threat; fog. The earlier moisture had now settled in the air, creating an impermeable mist that obscured almost everything but the small patch of track ahead.

More alone than ever, she could find nothing more proper than to go on, plunging deep into the grey. The corners lost context and meaning, creating an increasing worry as the race ticked along. Without any capacity to sight the road ahead, Kallen laterally grew concerned that someone could get into a really serious accident.

Indeed, it appeared this was a prescient concern. As she returned to the main straight, she observed in the white a man standing on the race track waving a red flag furiously, stepped out just off the racing line so that Kallen could see. With his vigor, Kallen was not wont to defy him, as she returned to the pits for the third time.

It was a long trip back to the pit lane, as Kallen tried to find the entryway, and let the car roll to a stop. Clambering out, Kallen ripped off her helmet and urgently panted across the pitlane, as the other drivers who had survived this long sporadically drove in. Spotting Ohgi stood out beside Lelouch's car, watching the Frenchman's engineers lift it, Kallen made for him and asked breathlessly from across the pits "Who was it?"

Ohgi confusedly replied "Eh?"

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Kallen elaborated, pointing to the circuit before asking "The red flag, who crashed? Are they alright?"

Ohgi's eyes narrowed in brief thought, before lightening up and answering "Ah, it was Dorothea Ernst. The Vanwall driver. She got beached at the chicane, according to what I've heard."

"Has anyone heard anything more substantive?"

With a shake of his head, Ohgi replied "We lost ground electricity a while ago, the tower and video feeds are dead. The cables probably got wet. We were able to carry on with timing boards, but the only people who saw were the marshals down at that bit of the track."

Kallen's eyes were cast down, before Ohgi noted "She's being brought back in the medical car, so you can ask her yourself."

Ohgi then nodded behind Kallen, who turned and saw the saloon pull in, and the dark skinned Briton stepped out, shaking her head. Eager to make sure she was alright, Kallen made her way across and waved to get her attention. In spite of not having finished, Dorothea was surprisingly amicable, and nodded to acknowledge the shorter woman, who was prompt in asking "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Dorothea affirmed. "Just skidded onto the apex and the wheels lost contact with the road after the chassis mounted onto the highest point. No bother, I just got out. Was mighty pissed at the time mind you, but with a red flag I may be able to rejoin at the back. They had to get a tractor to retrieve the car, so they stopped the race."

She sniffed suddenly, before commenting "This is all assuming they decide to restart the race. It's going to be dark soon."

Taking a moment to join Dorothea in looking into the sky, Kallen, head leaned as far back as she could tilt it, mused "You know, given that you were within a few percentage of the end of the race, you'd still be classified in the finishers. Could be worth a few points."

Pausing, the Vanwall driver furrowed her brows, before asking "How many people finished?"

Kallen frowned, and realised "I don't… know…", turning as she finished the reply to look at the cars in the paddock, counting them aloud.

"Your car isn't here… I finished… Lelouch finished, Suzaku finished, who else… Tamaki, somehow… Zhou Xianglin… and that's it I think…"

Six people finished the race of twenty-odd starters. If you trundled to the finish dozens of laps behind, you were nonetheless guaranteed points if you simply kept it on track. That casualty rate was anomalous in modern open wheel racing, and both women stood amazed at the barren holdings. Curious, Kallen asked "So where were you when you went out? Would you have even dropped that many places?"

Dorothea was silent for a moment, before responding "You know, I'm not sure. I wasn't near anyone who I could reference, it could have been anywhere. I think I was ahead of you on the restart, but I spun at the back hairpin on the second lap, and a few cars went by. That could well have included you."

"Perhaps…" Kallen considered, uncertain as she tried to work out what may have happened, before a shout of "Choto!" came up behind her.

Turning, Kallen saw Suzaku waving at them, walking up to join their motley crew. As he arrived, without an ounce of sweat in stark comparison to Kallen, who was still catching her breath, he took a moment before moving to shake her hand, congratulating her with a nod of "Good fight. Couldn't shake you for love nor money. Damn tyre."

The three shared a laugh, before Suzaku asked "So where did you finish in the end?"

Kallen scratched her head, before shrugging, and answering "We held each other up a lot fighting wheel to wheel. There were a good few cars ahead of both of us at the restart, like Dorothea, that might have slipped through the tough conditions."

With the tower out of action, they were completely in the dark as to who was in what position. Kallen was ahead of Suzaku, and that was the sum of their knowledge. Dorothea could, in theory, have built out such a lead in front of Kallen that even after spinning she could have been in a net lead on countback.

In conjunction with the fate of the race itself, the drivers sat in quiet murmuring, trying to play Cluedo with the race results for just under an hour, before they were approached by a steward, who handed them two sheets of paper, before nodding and leaving. Curious, they all listened to Dorothea, who read out what the documents said.

"In light of conditions including but not limited to immense surface moisture and lack of sufficient track visibility, the 2018 Hungarian Grand Prix will not be resumed, and the provisional results will stand. Given that only fifty two laps were completed, half points will be rewarded for each points position. Results are enclosed."

Realising she had the results in her hands, a sly smile came to her face, as she paced the information in self-indulgent entertainment. After a moment spent licking her lips, she began.

"In sixth place, finishing four laps behind the leader, scoring their first points of the season… Shinichiro Tamaki!"

The group chuckled, though quietly acknowledging that it had indeed taken some atypical skill from the Japanese man to hold his car in control. After it subsided, Dorothea continued.

"In fifth place, finishing twenty six seconds behind the leader, the man who could have done so much more- Suzaku Kururugi!"

Nodding curtly, Suzaku recognised his mention, and did little else. He was visibly neutral, but Kallen expected that he was internally livid. In any case, the listing continued.

"Just missing the podium, is Zhou Xianglin, in fourth place! Just nineteen seconds behind, and yet completely out of view, for the top three."

A quiet race for a quiet driver. After allowing the brief murmuring to settle, Dorothea began to build up hype for the top three finishers, slowly doing a drum roll before quietly announcing "In third, we have the one, the only, the future world champion, Dorothea Ernst! Truly, a legendary drive, hampered by a momentary stroke of bad luck, it is undoubtedly-"

"Just get to the top two!" Kallen urged, shaking with eagerness. She couldn't contain her enthusiasm. The only other driver who it could be was Lelouch. If he was in second, that meant-

"And, in second place, in an excellent recovery…"

-that she would actually-

"Lelouch Lamperouge!"

-have won the goddamn Grand Prix!

She rushed forward and hugged Dorothea, shoving the paper out of the way in glee, before suddenly realising that she wanted to see it to prove her words true. As it flew through the air, she seized it before scanning it to confirm her hopes. They were confirmed, and Kallen resumed her embrace of Dorothea, as she jumped up and down in ecstasy.

There were many words that came to mind to shout out in that present moment. Some were swears, others were celebrations, a few would rub it into Suzaku's face, but she decided to save her shouting for someone who would appreciate it. Thanking Dorothea, Kallen ran, and ran, and ran into the depths of the paddock.

Naoto Kōzuki was now off crutches, and was well into his therapy. He would most often be found doing walking training on treadmills to build his legs back up these days, his enthusiasm for sport never having abated. He was similarly still as enthusiastic in supporting his sister as ever, even as he tooled up to potentially return to racing. Today was a rest day after he had gone to extremely tough therapy the day before, and what with the frequent red flags, he had elected to get some rest. Kallen knew he did not yet know the results, and she wanted to be the first to tell him. When she burst into the room, spotting the half awake idiot laid on his bed and grinning the biggest grin she could muster, she finally let out the buried holler heard around central Europe.

"FINALLLY!"

* * *

 **Hope ye had a good year. We're halfway through the story now, so that's good. Please be so kind as to leave a review. Cheers mates.**

 **~Eth0**


	27. OK27 - Foul Play

**OK Number 27 - Foul Play**

* * *

In spite of a heroic victory at Hungary, it was indisputable that twelve and a half points did not make the dent that twenty five could. While it did immense good for her momentum and her mentality, there was still a mountain to climb as Formula One entered the second half of the 2018 season, and to win she would have to deliver the campaign of her life. With eight races to the end, Kallen was at fifty three and a half points, compared to ninety nine for Suzaku, who was in immense form.

If it could be presumed that Suzaku would finish on the podium in every race going forwards, a fair presumption, then Kallen would almost certainly have to win every single race but one for the rest of the season to hurl in Suzaku. However, as would be seen, Kallen had the fortitude to mount an immense campaign, something that would ultimately be borne out by what transpired over the course of 2018.

This began at the British Grand Prix, where Kallen was the defending winner from 2017. Gino Weinberg had suffered a sprained wrist in his accident at Hungary and was unable to race, and so his seat at Camelot was taken for that race by Anya Alstreim, who was leading the 2018 Formula 2 championship with an affiliated team and was their test driver.

Kallen took yet another pole, cementing her status as an excellent qualifier, and with Luciano Bradley having a grid penalty for causing a collision with Andreas Darlton under safety car at Hungary, she did not have to worry about the ginger punting her from the rear into turn three, as transpired the previous year. Instead, she got an excellent start, matching the lights to the microsecond and retaining the lead into turn one, and began to push with all her might. Given the strategy, she needed to.

Behind her, Suzaku and Lelouch had qualified on the Soft compound tyres, while Kallen had set her fastest lap on the Super Soft. She would have to do at least one more stop, and so she had to attack to build up enough time on the faster tyres to compensate for the extra time spent in the pits.

What followed was a fascinating display, as the three front runners ran three completely different races, as the field watched to see how they converged. Kallen, out in front, was the fastest person on track, but she was going to be forced into a difficult three stop strategy, with three sets of Super Softs and a final Soft stint. Suzaku, starting on Softs, was able to do a middle stint on Super Softs and finish on the Softs again.

Meanwhile, Lelouch was another layer removed, moving from his Softs to Mediums as late as he could and trying to drag those tyres to the end, saving time by skipping out on two pit stops relative to Kallen. He would leapfrog ahead, only to be reeled in. The field was jumbled up throughout the race as Kallen made her way back up to the front with her fresh, softer rubber, chasing down Suzaku, who was chasing down Lelouch. By the dying laps, the three were within one camera shot, in descending order of speed. Kallen fought past Suzaku, whose Softs were older, and then breezed past the worn Mediums of Lelouch to seize the lead, before Suzaku took second place on the last lap.

Five weeks later, after the summer break, came the Belgian Grand Prix, and Kallen secured another commanding pole position, with Marrybel Glinda at her flank. Kururugi and a returning Weinberg completed the second row, but Lelouch didn't even make Q3, struck by technical complications that had plagued him free practice and qualifying. Starting from 11th, he stalled at the line, leading to an aborted start. He was able to continue racing, albeit from the spare car, which meant he would have to start from the pit lane and fight his way back through to the points. Meanwhile, Glinda was able to jump his teammate Kozuki off the line, however the Japanese driver was able to reclaim the lead from the Canuck with an undercut, pushing after a pitstop to speed past on the delta. Kururugi was close behind his teammate to take the final podium position, while Lelouch was able to recover to a brilliant fourth by pitting under a late safety car, caused by Tamaki crashing out of Raidillon.

Singapore was the next race on the calender, and it being the other race Kallen had won in 2017, and the site of her first ever pole position. With the twitchy, high sprung Type-2/F19-Y suiting the tight street circuit, Kallen was expected to do extremely well, and she followed through. On Saturday, she blitzed Q3 with the fastest lap ever recorded around the circuit, hurtling the car around the tightly walled street track with reckless abandon. The video of the lap was shared all across social media, demonstrating the impossible speed carried into the narrow corners, and how much work had to be put into the hyperactive wheel to manage the cars vicious tendencies, with all ergonomics and smoothness sacrificed at the altar of speed. Never more than inches away from the many walls, she judged the distances to perfection, and was eight tenths of a seconds ahead of Lelouch in P2. It was a great display of administering chaos, managing impossible inputs in the blink of an eye and adapting to changing grip and sensations.

The race was not quite as dominant, thank goodness; a faulty clutch on Kallen's car could be managed once the car was up to speed, but it meant the pull off the line in first gear was heavily compromised, and Kallen lost several places, putting Lelouch briefly in the lead, before a surprisingly belligerent Suzaku made a successful move around his outside to take it off him. However, Kallen was on a charge, and was back up to third by the time the forecasted rain arrived at the Marina Bay. Judging conditions well, Kallen got onto the Intermediate tyres before anyone else, and successfully got ahead of Suzaku and Lelouch in the final phases of the race. However, it was not over, as a backmarker held up Suzaku by over two seconds as the Japanese man tried to lap the slower car, allowing Lelouch to catch and pass his friend, returning to second in the dying gasp of the race.

As Formula One returned to the United States, it was expected that Suzaku would finally strike back at Kallen, with the longer Rosenberg having the ability to do well over the mechanically taxing Circuit of the Americas that required stability and finesse. This he did, putting an end to Kallen's streak of six consecutive poles, which was ten if you counted Monaco. Lining up alongside him was Gino, whose patience in Camelot was rewarded with a B spec car, which was hoped would return the team to the pace of seasons gone by. Kallen had to be satisfied with row two of the grid, beside Kewell, with Lelouch even further behind.

The race was an protracted battle between Suzaku and Gino for the win, as they swapped and switched places over the course of three pit stops. Both drivers were rewarded for their notoriously slick, conservative style of driving, while Kallen could not keep up as her jerky movements simply shedded momentum in the long curves of sectors one and three.

In the end, Gino took a momentous victory, the first of the season for Camelot, while Suzaku was content to finish second. As he stated on the podium, if he finished second in every race to the end, the championship would mathematically be his, and he felt no obligation to push the envelope of risk to take a win, that could result in him crashing and hence losing the points he would have earned from finishing second. To win, Kallen would have to win the three remaining races, unless some difficulty struck Suzaku.

At Austria, this appeared to be the case. Suzaku suffered from an engine failure in qualifying around the Red Bull Ring, and was forced to start from the pit lane. Kallen led a lights to flag victory, and struck home with a Grand Chelem, leading every lap and setting the fastest lap of the race, followed by Gino and Lelouch. Suzaku could only manage to finish in the lower echelons of the points, which changed the dynamics of the championship dramatically. With this, Suzaku's maths was all put to waste, and now, with two races to go, Kallen was at two hundred and a half points to Suzaku's two hundred and one, as close as damnit to a tie. Losing the eighteen points for a second place finish meant that instead of being in a position where he could concede seven in each race with four points left over, he now had a fight on his hands.

This meant that Kallen, having won five out of the six races since Canada could actually pull into the lead of the championship for the first time since Australia in the penultimate race at Abu Dhabi, and as she pulled in from the final qualifying run she felt that she had put herself in prime position to do so. She had set yet another Pole lap, and was delighted, waving her arm in celebration of another perfect lap, coasting back to the pits as she chuckled and fist pumped past the crowds.

She was still celebrating as she pulled into her garage, turning across the pit lane and settling the car into its parking spot, still rocking within the cockpit and cheering. However, as she clambered out, and pumped one final fist, she noticed the deflated state of the pit mechanics, who stood around the car with a visible concern.

"What's wrong?" Kallen asked, as she removed her helmet and stepped off the bow. She was not provided with an initial response as she approached the cordon around the car, before a series of other mechanics in white uniforms propped up the car and proceeded to prod around the rear of the car, without a word from the Rebellion mechanics. Confused, Kallen moved to Ohgi for answers, however she was stopped by another white-clothed mechanic, who spoke in quiet tones.

"Please follow me to the drivers briefing room."

Subdued, Kallen nodded and did so, being escorted through the back of the garage to the FIA buildings, where the stewards busied themselves and official business was conducted. The drivers briefing at the beginning of the weekend served as a point of communication between the stewards and drivers, however whatever this was, it was not the normal use of the room.

As she entered the room, she noted several people sat across the room; Lelouch was slouched in the back, looking uncharacteristically small, Suzaku was as confused as Kallen, sat up near the front of the room visibly demanding an explanation, while Charles Zi Britannia occupied the podium at the front proper, hogging up all the space he could.

Uncertain, Kallen sat, with an arm placed on the back of the chair behind her, ready to launch her up in outrage should the need arise. Still not knowing what was going on, she cautiously ventured a query, petitioning "What is going on here?"

Charles did not answer, simply standing at the podium in absorbing silence for minutes, before an attendant entered the room and handed him a sheet of paper. Upon receiving this, he shifted and cleared his throat, regaining the attention of the room as he prepared to speak.

"This afternoon, a tip reached the stewards from a driver who with remain anonymous that another named driver was running an illegal ECU, which had been tampered with to act as a primitive ABS in violation of the regulations of the FIA. On foot of this, all cars were examined to look for signs of tampering, and it was discovered that the car of the named driver, the number eleven Rebellion of Kallen Kozuki, was indeed running with altered software, which ought to have been in accordance with the specifications of the FIA as provided in the regulations. It was not, having been at some point modified. This altered spec was run during all three sessions of qualifying, and as such the named driver has been disqualified, and will start from pit lane for the race beginning tomorrow."

Kallen paused as she digested this, before rising and shouting "What the hell? When did this happen?"

Charles shrugged, and replied "We did the checks on foot of a tip from another driver, we do not know how long the software has deviated from the specification outlined. Given the evidence, we decided to act on the time period we know for certain it was in contravention of the rules."

"Are you accusing me of cheating?" she replied, now foaming at the mouth.

"It makes no difference. Your car was illegal. Intent is not of consequence."

Kallen paused, as she tried to work out what the hell was going on, before asking, with a hint of bile, "And was there anything found on the other Rebellion car?"

Charles shook his head, replying "There was no evidence of tampering found on the car number twenty seven of Lelouch Lamperouge."

Kallen turned to glare at Lelouch, as she mulled over the possibilities. He looked straight back at her, seeming almost bored as he met her hot inquisitive gaze coolly. Could he have done it? He hardly had the technical ability, but he had the motive. Unwilling to get into a shouting match in the middle of a room of half a dozen drivers, she grimaced and replied "I assume it will be restored to its original state?"

Charles nodded. "Rebellion has been instructed to amend the issue, and once it has been done you will be allowed to race."

Without another word, Kallen turned and left. She had to work out why the hell this had happened. This was not going to stand, one way or the other, and someone was going to pay for stealing pole from her.

The top slot would go to Gino, who was followed by Lelouch, Marrybel, Kewell and Suzaku. Kallen would be stone dead last and then some, starting from pit lane. Moreover, this was not Brazil; overtaking at the Yas Marina circuit was a serious challenge, almost as hard as Monaco, and her chance of points was slim. Kallen doubted this was an accident; someone wanted to kneecap her for this critical race. It could have been Suzaku, or more likely someone who worked for Rosenberg, as Kururugi was too circumspect to risk tampering with an opponent's car. Lelouch was such an obvious suspect that it was almost too obvious; he would know that he was the main suspect.

However, she had to check every avenue, and so she turned the initial phases of her fury on Ohgi, cornering him in the back of the garage and pressing him on how the code got into the ECU.

"I don't know!" he insisted. "I don't know! It's kept hooked to a laptop to monitor it, but I guess someone could have come and hit the keyboard a few times to install some code if they knew what they were doing, but I don't know who would do it, or even what that code would be. I don't know who would do it, we're all behind you!"

The rest of the night was spent in lurking, as Kallen interrogated half the garage, trying to play amateur detective. She received variants of Ohgi's answer as she prowled about the paddock, and was still in a foul mood as she sought out Lelouch to confront him directly.

He was nowhere to be found within the Rebellion garage, and indeed seemed to be keeping a low profile. It took a while for Kallen to spy him out, deep in conversation with Reuben Ashford at the other end of the pit lane. Growing suspicious, she walked down towards the Ashford RT pit stand, where the pair seemed to not notice her, such was the intensity of their discussion, until Kallen stood behind them and hissed "Good evening gentlemen."

Their huddle parted immediately, as they rotated out to face her, each with a different response. Lelouch had an initial glare, but relaxed it quickly, as befitted a meeting between teammates.

By contrast, Reuben, a shrinking violet at the best of times, withered completely under Kallen's oppressive glare, seeming to find it impossible to avoid what Lelouch brushed off and ignored with a practised ease. The landed Earl was clearly not a people person.

After reading the mood of the gathering, Kallen nodded and began "Good enough evening, mm?"

Lelouch sniffed, before replying curtly "Good enough. What did you need?"

He clearly, in spite of polite smile and voice ringing with a comradely helpfulness, was in no mood to talk to Kallen, both irked from being interrupted in his discussion with Reuben and uneasy in light of what she was clearly here to talk about.

"What the fuck happened to my car?"

Lelouch was visibly put off by Kallen's vitriol, seeming to fade into a wince before commenting "It would appear that you were running an illegal car, and order was restored. Charles was not ambiguous on this point. Not sure why you needed me to point that out."

"You cheating-"

"You're driving an illegal car, and you call _me_ the cheat?"

Kallen lost quite a bit of momentum at this point, but recovered and argued "I'd have scored the pole position with or without any software. This wasn't cheating, it was sabotage. My car had the software, and yours didn't. What do you have to say to that?"

"Well, I say that my mechanics are diligent in ensuring my car meets the full specifications of the FIA, and hence I will be starting tomorrows race from the front row of the grid. We have no way of knowing what your pace in a legal car would have been, and so your car was sent to the back, and justice was served."

"A driver reported it, according to Charles. Either that driver would be so technically competent that they tell a car had electronic traction control simply from watching it drive, or they would be the one who installed it."

Lelouch paused, waiting to see if she was finished before observing "That's not a question, that's an accusation."

"Take it however you want, punk."

Lelouch's eyebrows raised, before he cleared his throat and said "Reuben, turn in. I'll get back to you later-"

"No, stay." Kallen insisted, shifting left to block the stairs. Lelouch's face now turned dark, and Reuben turned a hot shade of red. Lelouch clearly did not want the designer present for this discussion, and given the elder mans technical skill, dots quickly began to connect. Kallen's suspicion was validated, though not confirmed, by a new, harsher tone from Lelouch, as he hissed "Perhaps someone who has driven with you for a year can tell when you do and don't have electronic traction control, as they've been paying close attention to your driving and measuring themselves against it. Don't blame the person who reported the crime for your commission of it."

"I did nothing wrong. I didn't touch the ECU. Moreover, it doesn't matter whether a mechanic did it, a tech junkie someone hired, or even a team mate-"

"Subtlety is not your strong suit it seems." Lelouch shot back, his voice now growing angry. "I wouldn't know the first thing about computers. How would I even write the goddamn script?"

"Perhaps you asked a good friend and former employer who is skilled in technical matters to do it for you?" Kallen asked sarcastically, turning briefly to Reuben, who could not have looked more embarrassed if he tried. Lelouch, not appreciating his friend being dragged into it, grew even more hostile, replying "If you want to start a fight with me, that's our business, but unless you've got a whole shedload more evidence beyond your angry ramblings, I'd suggest you sod off back to the garage before you make a mistake you will regret in taking on Reuben. He may drop in a word with Charles, and he will drop the weight of the world on you, so back off."

However, Lelouch miscalculated, as Kallen's internal dictionary lacked any recognition of the term 'back off.' She stood upright, positively indignant at the injustice of what Lelouch was positing, and was moments from unleashing rage on Lelouch's smug certainty before a shout interrupted the scene, surprising all three of them as they turned to spot Gino, quite visibly worked up.

"What on earth is going on here?" he asked, arriving at the scene with surprising haste, presenting an assertive aggression that surprised Kallen. He very quickly took control of the scene, both the tallest and loudest person present.

"Kallen and I were discussing her penalty." Lelouch replied banally, somewhat neutered but not wholly swatted by the unexpected presence of someone outside of his mechanisms and machinations.

Gino turned his nose up slightly, and replied "Seemed to get rather heated."

Lelouch shrugged, and replied "Kallen is rather competitive. It's understandable to get frustrated when you get a penalty, but when you go accusing others of sabotage, it's understandable that things get rather personal."

"Well, speaking about Kallen like she's not here is hardly earning you any goodwill, Lamperouge. Second, given that your motives align fairly neatly with this whole mess, I wouldn't get so hot under the collar about a bit of scrutiny. You're seventeen points off Kallen, and I'd imagine the bonus for finishing second in the championship is mighty tasty for someone in your position."

"Easy for you to say Weinberg, when you've never had to worry about money, or taking care of your loved ones in your life." Lelouch shot back. As was ever annoying about Lelouch, he had a point, at least as far as Gino was concerned; born to English nobility, he had never had an issue funding his hobby into an ambition, through karts and the junior formulae. As such, he hardly had the standing to challenge that point, however Kallen very much did.

"Naoto and I ran things out of a one room flat for years, and you don't see me prancing around like a dishonest prick. Quit hiding behind your siblings and using them as a shield."

Lelouch now expressed a very dangerous face Kallen had not seen before, possessing a dark violence. His eyes struck an intensity as he leaned forwards, causing Kallen and Gino to respond with defensive stances, ready for whatever came next. However, after he bit his lip, he simply replied "Get the hell out of my face."

Kallen was ready to slap him, however Gino shook his head and cautioned "Not worth the effort."

She thought it over, before siding with Gino, backing off slowly as Lelouch shot daggers into the pair of them, with Reuben in the background, stood behind Lelouch with some hesitancy, clearly put off by the hostile atmosphere.

The Frenchman shook his head, and turned to the team owner before murmuring "Let's take this indoors."

* * *

 **Tense times for our leads. As the championship enters the endgame, the drama is approaching a boiling point, especially as we approach the Brazilian Grand Prix. Please leave a review to let me know what you make of the direction I'm going!**

 **~Eth0**


	28. OK28 - Blood Sport

**OK Number 28 - Blood Sport**

* * *

With a start for the ages, Lelouch got the jump on Gino into turn one at the beginning of the Grand Prix, but apart from that moment of drama, Abu Dhabi was unfortunately par for its own course. Kallen was only able to reach seventh, scoring six points after slicing through the back of the grid with her amended car. Meanwhile, Lelouch took his third win of the year thanks to his good start and front row qualifying position, joined on the podium by Gino and Suzaku.

With Kallen's streak of wins, Lelouch's post-Monaco lead had been eaten away, and the Franc had begun to trail in the points significantly, almost twenty points behind Kallen when they went to Abu Dhabi. With nineteen points scored over Kallen, Lelouch left the Emirates with a two point edge over his teammate. In turn, he was now seven and a half points behind Suzaku. As they moved to Brazil, these three were the only ones in mathematical contention for the title.

However, the advantage lay with Suzaku, and at this point the title was his to lose. He certainly had no intention of doing so, and so was training harder than ever to prepare himself. His car may have fallen behind from its early season edge with a lack of development, but he would not be found lacking in effort.

As such, he now lived in the simulator, only leaving for meals and rest, learning the laser scanned and digitised replica of the Autodromo José Carlos Pace. The team headquarters had to all intents and purposes become his second home, with a back utility room repurposed for Suzaku's brief stints of sleep and exercise. The rest of his time was spent working with Lloyd, who monitored his inputs and telemetry on the simulator, as the Briton analysed and gave feedback on Suzaku's performance. Carving out his racing line like a valley, he completely immersed himself in the South American circuit, one of the shortest and yet one of the most technically challenging.

It was only through thousands of kilometres sank into the simulated replica that he began to build up his pace, taking a brute force approach to finding his footing, learning every square inch of tarmac, every traction zone, to create a consistent line he could replicate into the race. With the design team hamstrung, it was all he could do.

This lack of car development was attributable to the team trying to save money to tide them over once Schneizel pulled his funding and make sure they would be on the grid in 2019. This meant money that would be spent on improving the car was now being kept behind the couch, and so the Rebellion and the Camelot now had an edge over the Rosenberg. Of course, this was not material to Suzaku. He would deliver a drive worthy of a champion, and these difficulties would be overcome.

Suzaku believed to his core that all difficulties could be defeated through endeavour, and as such the winning championship was simply a case of putting his nose to the grindstone, and victory would be his.

He never questioned it. He knew he would be World Champion. Even after Austria, where he lost his buffer, he was still confident. This would not be a lottery, spitting out a random name; the title would go to the driver with the most focus and will, which Suzaku believed to be himself.

Perhaps it was self-aggrandising, indeed it very likely was, but it served a purpose. If Suzaku could build up his own mental strength and fortitude such that success seemed like a certainty, there were tangible benefits; he would not suffer nerves, or uncertainty. There would be himself, and the chequered flag, and his opposition would be defeated. This self-certainty was self-enforcing, as he would maintain his smooth cool even in the do-or-die race at Brazil. Psychologically, Suzaku felt solid as a rock. Even if the team was unable to solve all their problems, Suzaku would take the flaws of the team and the car on his shoulders and carry them to the finish line, come hell or high water.

Another two hours of training, Suzaku huffed, before he had to pack his things and head to the airport. Sao Paulo awaited, as did success.

"Let's go again Lloyd!"

Lap two hundred and sixty-three, turn one, brake at the fifty metre board.

* * *

"Weather reports out of Sao Paulo indicate that the weather this weekend will be extremely wet, with high rainfall forecasted from Friday evening well into Monday, with minor flooding a known risk. In other news-"

"Are you still listening to that brother?"

Lelouch grimaced as he turned away from the radio, propped up against the airport window, to face a concerned Rolo, who took a moment away from Nunnally's wheelchair to check on his increasingly neurotic elder brother.

"I've got to get any edge I can Rolo." Lelouch replied, more in an attempt to justify his fixation on news coming out of Brazil from publicly available sources.

Which, at present, were his only sources. Rebellion, likely having decided that, although they lacked proof, he was, on the balance of probabilities, the culprit in Kallen's failure to qualify and had stopped sending him updates. As such, Lelouch had had to get a bit resourceful, trawling Reddit for technical updates and stalking Brazilian talk radio for weather forecasts, armed with determination, bitterness, and limited Portuguese.

However, Rolo lacked much of the context, in no small part thanks to Lelouch's conscious efforts to isolate his siblings from his own lack of prestige, and so the younger brother pressed on, emphasising "You've got to get some sleep, it's going to be a long flight to Sao Paulo. If you're not well rested, you won't be able to take the fight to Suzaku!"

Lelouch felt a wide range of emotions, from pride to shame to a twinge of anger. The twinge of anger was easily explainable; Lelouch was responsible for Rolo, and he did not want his younger brother to worry about his sleeping habits. Rolo worrying about Lelouch's health and wellbeing frustrated Lelouch's parental side.

However, this frustration was brief. Rolo was as idealistic and excitable in his view of the sport as was possible, as he hyped up Lelouch's potential to fight for the title. Thanks to Lelouch's efforts, Rolo had a stable platform to simply drive, without having to scurry about in the politics of the motorsports world to scrap his way into the big leagues, calculating and brown-nosing. This was in stark contrast to the cynical Lelouch, who had been eager to ensure his brothers experience was different to his. Given how excited Rolo was, and how much he rated his brothers chances, it appeared Lelouch had done his job properly, hence the pride.

The shame was the most complicated, as Lelouch privately acknowledged he had pre-emptively betrayed Rolo's faith in his driving. However, he wasn't quite ready to dive into that subconscious rabbit hole quite yet, as he tried to spot when his plane was leaving. He spied the timings on the ticker mounted to the roof of the terminal hall, noting that the flight was about half an hour from boarding.

"Let's get going." Lelouch signalled, neglecting to reply to Rolo's encouraging advice to rest. He pointed to Nunnally's wheelchair, instructing Rolo to push her towards the departure point. He followed, however it was not just the three Lamperouges that were flying out of Nice-Côte d'Azur.

"I hope they serve pizza on the in flight meals. This is going to be a long flight otherwise."

Lelouch sighed, and replied "Not least for me, what with your complaining. I'd swear your 10% goes purely to pizza outlets in bulk payments."

C.C chuckled quietly, with a smug edge, as she replied "At least it could be a pretty big 10% if things go your way next Sunday."

Lelouch frowned grumpily as he tugged at his carry bag. Unlike Rolo, the green haired agent was not naïve, and was irritating him with a great deal more intent. He ignored her, and marched on, however he was again molested with a snarky "So, what's the plan for taking the world championship?"

"Quiet." he snapped back, pretending to frown at some point on the middle distance with great focus, as if distracted by some pressing irregularity out on the runway. However, C.C read him well, and replied "Yes, those are some fascinating planes."

Realising he wouldn't be able to play this game for twelve hours, he shook, and replied "I've got a clear understanding of what needs to be done."

Delighted to be getting a rise out of him, C.C pressed "You always did talk about driving to the objective. What is it, seven and a half points?"

Lelouch knew C.C knew what the reality was, but he also knew she would not stop until she had gotten him to admit it. Sighing, he slowly replied, quietly so that Rolo might not hear, "The primary concern I need to operate around is not the seven and a half points I have to gain to Suzaku. That battle is over. My focus is the two points I have to lose to Kallen."

* * *

"Kallen, I need a moment. I need to tell you something about Lelouch."

The named woman turned back from the taxi line and removed her earphones to acknowledge her brother, raising her eyebrows in uncertainty, having only heard the ends of his request.

Naoto sighed, and repeated himself. But for his beleaguered demeanour, which could well be expected of anyone who had sat through a flight from Tokyo to Brazil without stops, his health was impeccable, something Kallen, looking back at his full portrait from across the room, had to note as he walked closer. He had affected as near as damnit to a full recovery from his injury a year and a half ago, and there was not a trace of a limp in his movements.

In any case, as she heard the repetition of his statement, she acknowledged it had little to do with legs, and so dropped the thought and replied "Sure, I'll just get a cab and we'll talk in the back. Can't imagine too many taxi drivers speak Japanese."

Naoto seemed satisfied with this compromise, as Kallen, donning a cap and cotton face mask to avoid recognition, continued her attempts to hail a taxi for some time, finally gaining the attention of a tatty microcar. Squeezing into the back, Kallen gestured "Autodromo Interlagos, obrigado.", which got an enthusiastic nod from the driver, before he stamped the throttle and, in the Brazilian tradition, shot out into the road as fast as the tappets of first gear would allow.

Trying to ignore the immense danger whizzing past them, Kallen and Naoto shared an exchange in Japanese, as Kallen tried to hear out Naoto's concern about her team mate. She sat back, while he explained.

"I didn't want to try and push you into anything, not after Brazil last year. If we've learned anything, it's that my sense of things and ability to predict your success is pretty haywire. Ergo, I don't want to, sorta, push or pull the way you thought and decided about things. So, when you brought Lelouch into the fold, I kept my trap shut. However, right now I need to give you a warning."

Kallen, surprised by this turn, sat upright and paid very close attention. Naoto's tone was very grave, and demanded Kallen's fullest focus, as he stared straight across into her eyes.

"In 2015, I was driving in GP3 before I debuted in F1. I was in the title fight with Lelouch going into Brazil, with Lelouch having a six point advantage going in. I would have to finish ahead of him to get the title."

Kallen put together the pieces in her mind, as Naoto completed the thought, explaining "To all intents and purposes, he would win the championship if I failed to finish."

Kallen felt a sudden coolness, like a chilling presence had joined them in the back of the Italian microcar. Progressively, the muddy heat of the Minas Gerais was replaced by an iciness, as she appreciated the inevitable conclusion of the story.

"So, on lap one, he made certain of it that I failed to finish. He crashed into the back of me at the first corner and that was all she wrote. Lelouch was champion. Be careful on Sunday."

* * *

"And of course, so if you could state your name and publication before you ask a question that would be fantastic. With all that sorted, I would like to welcome you all to this Thursday press conference. On panel we have Suzaku Kururugi, Lelouch Lamperouge, and Kallen Kōzuki. We'll start with the gentleman down the back, in the dark shirt."

"Kallen, do you think you can cope with the pressure of fighting for your first title in your second year?"

The question was straightforward, and put Kallen in quite the positive mood. Since Canada, pressure had been a non issue, as Kallen had entered a groove of form. The Abu Dhabi disqualification and pursuant argument with Lelouch may have shaken her cool somewhat, but she felt as good as gold out on track, and in the interests of putting on a show of confidence for Suzaku and Lelouch, was eager to show it.

"Absolutely. I'm at the peak of my career, at the height of form, I've just won six out of the last eight races, and have a great car. If I wasn't in a position where there was pressure, what would I be doing? Ultimately, performing under pressure is part of what makes a good driver, and in case you've not heard, I like to consider myself a good driver."

It was a bit cocky, but given the chuckles across the room it went down well. Buoyed by this success, Kallen decided to go on, continuing "Moreover, I've nothing to lose. I'm chasing him down, and it's on him to bottle it from his position of advantage. Let's see if the bookworm can handle the pressure, hmm?"

This light teasing prompted the same man to then ask "Mr Kururugi, do you feel the pressure?"

Suzaku was more straightforward in his answer, lacking Kallen's boisterous attitude, replying with a straightforward "No."

He didn't provide anything more than that, much to the amusement of the press corps, who waited in silence for a moment before realising that that was all they were being treated to and laughing. Pressed further, Suzaku spoke softly, but affirmatively, with little volume, but equally little hesitation.

"It is very easy to talk about momentum when you start the year with three finishes from six races. The truth is, I have been the more consistent driver all year, I have been faster where it counts, I have worked harder, and have driven the far better season. As a result, when we meet again on Sunday afternoon I expect I will be World Champion."

It was curt, snippy, and easily clippable, and matched Kallen's confidence with an understated quiet thunder. It could well have been one of the famed casual utterances of a certain Austrian. All it was missing was a frustrated grunt and irritable lisp.

It would do. There was some shuffling and jockeying, before a new questioner stepped up to the plate. She was reportedly Belgian, and spoke with clear practice in passable Japanese.

"Suzaku, what is your understanding of the situation with finances for the Rosenberg team?"

He did not take this question in his stride quite as well as he did the previous one, Kallen observed. Certainly, he was likely more prepared for questions regarding the world championship. In any case, he adapted, and with a slight sniff, answered "Obviously, there's a lot of talking going on, there's a lot of speculation about. I'd rather not add to the rumour mill without a reason, but suffice to say that we hope to impress with our performance on Sunday, and show that our outfit is a great platform for sponsorship and advertising."

"So you're looking for money?"

Suzaku realised he was backed into a corner, however he played it off well, trying to play it off as a joke by commenting "Well, I think every team always wants more money. You can't point to a team on the grid that wouldn't make good use of a few extra quid."

It was a good dodge, and it seemed to work, as the attention of the room shifted, and a new questioner rose, this time to ask a question to the elephant in the room.

"Lelouch, yesterday Taizo Kirihara admitted to being in the market for a new driver. It does not appear as if Kōzuki is currently likely to be the driver to lose out. What is your knowledge of the situation, and do you think your time at Rebellion is limited?"

If Suzaku had frowned at the awkward question he received, Lelouch initially would have had license to positively squirm. Kallen moved her eyelids sideways, stealthily examining the Frenchmans temperament, but was surprised that he was not too shaken by what was a rotten question, though, in Kallen's view, not undeserved. After a moments thought, he spoke, though with a very careful and deliberate choice of words, enunciating each one very particularly.

"Of course, there would be the issue of the two year contract I signed at the start of this year… neither I nor my agent have been addressed by Kirihara on this, which, given that he would have to pay a breakage clause, leads me to believe that action will not be taken in the near future. I think Taizo is a very smart man, who will be watching closely to see which of his drivers can finish higher in the drivers championship. I am in prime position to win it outright, and am ahead of Kallen in the standings at the moment. I doubt he wants to make premature decisions, which I respect. I believe I have driven the better, more consistent season, costing the team less points in incidents and failures to finish, and that is borne out in the current points standings. So… to answer your question, I'm very confident."

It was a serviceable answer, however Kallen did not appreciate the inferred minimising of her performance, and shot across the table "How many poles did you get, hm? How many wins? I was an average of four tenths ahead in qualifying, in fact the only times you outqualified me were Monaco and Abu Dhabi."

"Points are not paid out on Saturday, Kallen, you do know that, mm?" Lelouch snarked, with a wicked smugness about him. "You lost somewhere in the region of seventy points to crashing and driver error, while I've finished every race I've started this year."

"Yes, which shows I'm faster than you, given that despite that, you're still only two points ahead-"

Kallen was more than willing to continue this tract at length, however she was interrupted by the FIA man running the press conference, who insisted "C'mon now, this is fun, but lets get back to the questions."

Kallen paused, before shaking her head and dropping the argument, but not without a scowl. The next question was from Diethard Reid, who cleared his throat before speaking in a dramatic fashion.

"Lelouch, do you think you can win the championship?"

Lelouch looked uncharacteristically thoughtful, before responding "I'm mathematically in the fight. We'll see what happens in Qualifying."

He would not add anything more than that.

* * *

 **So close to the final scrap of the 2018, it's so tense! Who do you think will take it? Will Lelouch be driving for Rebellion next season? Will Rosenberg be on the grid next season? Please be sure to review, it's been ages without any feedback, and it really helps me examine what ye think of the direction I'm going, as well as giving a hell of a motivating kick! In any case, see you soon.**

 **~Eth0**


	29. OK29 - Denouement

**OK Number 29 - Denouement**

* * *

"And Lelouch is going- yes, he's peeling off into the pit lane, he was a couple of tenths down on his personal best through the second sector. A shame, his first sector was almost challenging Kallens, but he just lost so much momentum out of Bico de Pato, the slow right hand hairpin, getting up with some power oversteer just where the puddles are. These are treacherously wet conditions indeed, as we approach the ten minute window, here at qualifying for tomorrow's Brazilian Grand Prix. That's ten minutes to go until we see who will line up on pole, and right now it is Kallen in provisional first place, but that could very much change, as the wet conditions could prove to favour a smoother approach. We shall see. This is Diethard Reid, alongside me is good friend Jeremiah Gottwald, and- oh, yes, here's Suzaku now, entering the last turn now, he's about to start a flying lap."

Indeed he was, as the Japanese prodigy flew across the starting line, kicking up pools of mist and water in his rearward wake as he shot down into the Senna esses. He broke quite early, and tipped the car in with a deliberate motion of the wheel, with a swift raise of the right hand, held firmly in position once established. In a fashion most unlike the man the corner was named after, Suzaku approached it with his own conservative caution, braking in a straight line and gliding down through the faux-chicane in a swooping motion, holding his car in firm rectitude as he progressed down the gears, a deliberate bang, pause, bang, pause, bang, measured and practised.

With such painstaking measures taken to preserve his momentum, Suzaku was able to exit the corner with the throttle fully open, blasting forward without a hint of a shake or wobble that would compromise his acceleration. It was as if a computer was driving, such was the accuracy, hones down to millimeters.

"Good run through there." Jeremiah commented plainly, focused on Suzaku's performance.

All was looking good, however what the commentators could not see until it was too late was a slow car, likely returning to the pits, that was trundling on the racing line. As the camera panned back, they saw it just as Suzaku was forced to dive messily to the inside, forcing him into a shallow line through the Descida de Lago, greatly harming his exit.

"I think that may have been Kewell." Diethard blurted, as he tried to get a good glimpse. "In any case, that will have hurt Suzaku's lap immensely, but we'll see as he approaches the sector split and- ach, it's two tenths down."

"He may abandon the lap and try to get another one in, but we'll see… he's still going at full tilt, I think he wants to finish this one and see what he can do."

Indeed, it appeared as if he was going faster than ever, as he swung his car into into Ferradura and swinging it like a bullroarer, with an impossibly swift entry and impossibly clean exit. However, his party trick was yet to come.

As he entered the last sector, his individualised sector time was level with his previous lap, which meant he was still two tenths down. The third sector was short, consisting of a single left hander, and an uphill climb to the finish line.

Suzaku was almost off the track as he launched himself onto the kerb, making the corner as wide and as open as possible before launching the car towards the corner, positively shooting the car into the apex without a flinch. It was black magic, as he carried the entire force of the high speed pivot in his neck. It was impressive, yet understated, hugely fast and yet almost effortless. For about half a second, it appeared as if Suzaku, through sheer force of concentration, broke physics.

"Woah!" Jeremiah exclaimed. "Jesus, I got whiplash just looking at that."

Diethard was equally enthusiastic, as he exclaimed "Even with the other car holding him up, it could be a third or fourth for Suzaku as he runs up to the line, although-"

"-he did in fairness nail the last corner and got a smooth run-"

"Holy hell, that's second place for Suzaku Kururugi!" Diethard yelled, interrupting Jeremiah, as he jumped about the commentary box. "In the Rosenberg, the third fastest car, he goes second out of all drivers! Going from two tenths down to three up, with that last sector. You're spot on, he nailed that last sector beautifully. If he can match his personal best from Sector One and repeat that Sector Three, he may well challenge for Pole here today!"

The pair laughed, as Suzaku wound the speed down on approach to the first corner, cooling the car as he navigated the track on his way back to the pits. After a moment of following the Rosenberg, the broadcast feed switched to a shot of Kallen, sat in her car looking at the same broadcast, which created an amusing visual loop. Her face, mirrored to infinity in the increasingly small replications of the broadcast on the screen next to her, wore a frown as she examined the times, and in particular the most recent time of Suzaku's, which had come within two tenths of her best from earlier. Jeremiah, after appreciating the funny image, began to comment on the scene.

"And there on your screens now ladies and gentlemen is the woman he would be taking that Pole off, the normally sanguine Kallen Kozuki, who looks on at her screen inquisitively. She has already set a lap time of one minute and eighteen point two seconds, which was a blistering lap given her cars nature and I don't see how she could improve on it- the car was twitching and shaking all the way round the lap, I wouldn't dare push it any harder than that, but she may decide to have another go at it depending on what Suzaku does."

She kept staring, until the camera switched away from her to examine the other cars in circulation, which Jeremiah again spoke on.

"Nu also just completed a lap by the way, jumping from tenth to sixth, but- oh, and a Rebellion has just left the pit lane, it's- it's car number eleven, it's Kallen Kozuki."

Kallen had indeed left the pits, and the mood palpably changed. Even about that part of the pit lane that was visible, there was a sudden anticipation as Kallen returned to the qualifying field. Everyone took a moment to pause and examine the screen, in light of the undoubtable and indisputable expectation she created whenever she was about to do a fast lap. However, would she be able to deliver?

Diethard didn't think so, noting "She must feel like she still has time left to find in the lap, but… I just don't see it. Maybe in the last turn, given that Suzaku was so good through it, but other than that, I don't know if she left that much on the table. The car was just so fidgety, which could be a liability in these wet conditions."

"We will see, as she brings the car up to speed, building up the temperature in the tyres and in the brakes on her exit lap as she prepares for her second flying lap of this session. Bradley is just ahead on a flying lap, and crosses the line to move from ninth to eighth, as Kallen exits the last corner. Now she'll want to build up speed to begin her fast lap. Let's see what she can do."

With Jeremiah's introduction complete, Kallen rushed across the line to start her lap. With a much higher rake than Suzaku's, the quantities of water thrown up behind her were greater by an order of magnitude, however this did not impede her as she hurled the car into the first corner, forging a path deep into it before pitching the cars weight on its front wheels and using the lateral movement to slow it, turning and braking at the same time. She skated onto the inside kerb before bouncing back off, jerking this way and that for hints of traction to slide the car through the complex. She was on the throttle much earlier than Suzaku, but her exit was much less clean as she hopped about the tarmac, scrappily fighting the steering wheel to manage the overactive rear, a consequence of her fast entry to the corner.

As unstable as it was, it was still fast, and as she flung the mercurial, vicious Guren Type-2/F19-Y into the wet beyond. She fired the car into the Descida with reckless abandon, wrenching the wheel to full lock with barely a hint of lift or braking. As she forced the car to turn through the open left hander far beyond its remit and capability, the rear tyres suddenly lost traction as they grew overwhelmed by the force put into them, and she was forced into a moment of drift, correcting with aggressive countersteer, however she pulled the car back from the brink, and exited the corner just within the track limits.

"Look at that!" Jeremiah laughed. "Absolutely pristine reflexes. She started correcting with the wheel before I could even see the car going sideways."

"It was slick, for sure, but was it quick? We'll see now as we approach the first sector split, we'll see a comparison to her first lap…"

Both commentators looked intently at the sector split displays, keeping an intense watch before it appeared suddenly as she crossed the split line. They both read its pronouncement.

 _Sector Best – (Minus .143 seconds)_

"What?" Jeremiah barked, shocked. "She found another tenth and a half! That's insane!"

Chuckling, Diethard shrugged his shoulders and exasperatedly marvelled "Here we go again!"

It appeared that the idea that Kallen was approaching a limit to the lap time she could pump out was poorly founded, as she rocketed into the middle sector. The car was the furthest thing from planted as one could conceive, but Kallen made the best of it, rotating the car using its inherent volatile behaviour. She skidded her way towards the third sector at maximum attack, wringing every square inch of traction for all the grip it was worth to leap and jump and crawl forwards that little bit faster. In spite of her previous lap being so fast, somehow, Kallen was able to go faster.

"Oh my god, up two tenths!"

But she was not finished. Mirroring Suzaku's line, Kallen traded his smoothness for a more aggressive turn in, resulting in a faster entry but a slower exit. Even so, and even with a kick of oversteer on the exit kerb, it was still faster than her previous attempt at the corner, and as she rocketed up the Subida Dos Boxes, Diethard knew this would be a special time.

However, even as he read it, it still managed to surprise him.

"Goodness me, found three tenths up on her previous best in the last sector! She found another seven tenths of a second on that lap, absolutely beggars belief."

Jeremiah, shaking his head, could only agree. "That's a seventeen five on a wet track, goodness me. If I were a driver that would just… devastate my confidence. I'd be intimidated even looking at that lap, that's insanity. The morale on the pit lane across all the teams that aren't called 'Rebellion' will have just taken a big blow, as she's now nine tenths ahead of the next fastest car of Kururugi. That, around a track this short, is…"

"Lunacy, lunacy is what it is."

* * *

"And now, as the cars line up on the grid for the parade lap, we are but minutes from the start of the 2018 Brazilian Grand Prix, and the atmosphere is reaching a fever pitch. The rolling hills of Socorro are alive with the sound of airhorns, shouting, and of course, some of the most powerful engines ever built for cars. History is very much in the making, as within the next two hours, we will have a new hero, adding their name to the illustrious roster of Champions for the first time. Will it be the wily Franc, Lelouch Lamperouge? He hasn't the speed of his competitors, but with guile and strategy, and a good bit of pluck, he's been able to take the fight to the big figures of modern motor racing, stealing results and keeping it on the black stuff when he needed to. In spite of his poor qualifying, it would be a mistake to count him out, as he sits seven and a half points behind Suzaku and two ahead of Kallen."

"Or, will the honours go to the persistent Suzaku Kururugi, absolutely tireless in his ambition and industry? He may appear to be a bit off the pace given the deficit in qualifying, but leaks have revealed that the team believed that pole position to be impossible in any case, and so compromised the setup of the car fully towards race trim, which means that they may have the best race pace of anyone on track today. Time will tell. Needless to say, his consistency and effort have been second to none, and if he can hang onto his lead, cannily built up in the early season, he will make a deserving Champion."

"Or, will it be Kallen Kozuki, the passionate, audacious Tokyo native, who took a commanding Pole Position? While she has struggled to build consistency, and her race pace and tyre management has yet to match her qualifying pace, few can fault her natural talent. However, carrying the win today will require character, care, and a cool head, which she has not had throughout the entirety of this season. Needless to say, all her skills will be tested if she wants to finish where she starts. However, if she can pull through, it would represent another magnificent drive in her portfolio of 2018, and cement her worthiness as champion."

"Nine and a half points is the gap going into the Grand Prix between the two Japanese challengers. If Kallen wins the race, and Suzaku finishes lower than second, she is the Champion of the World. If she finishes second, Suzaku needs only finish in fifth place to clinch the title. If Kallen just about keeps it on the podium in third, she wins if Suzaku gets eighth or lower. A fourth place from Kallen would require Suzaku finishing in ninth for her to win, and the only way Kallen can win from fifth is if Suzaku fails to score points. There will be no prizes for Kallen if she cannot stay above sixth."

"Meanwhile, Lelouch would need to overtake both of his title rivals and build a gap to both of them to win the title, which is a far longer shot given that he is several positions behind them on the grid. However, given that he is ahead of his teammate Kallen on points, if he can finish ahead of her on track, regardless of position, second in the championship is guaranteed for him."

"As to the conditions, it is still wet, and quite so; every driver will be starting on the blue full wet tyre, and, if forecasting is to be believed, it will stay wet for the duration of the race. This will require a gentle touch around the four point three kilometre circuit, nestled within the suburbs of Sao Paulo. Who will master it? Don't go anywhere, as in moments we will find out, as the 2018 season crescendos here."

"It was a season of twists of fortune, with success and luck swapping hands at the blink of an eye. Unpredictable at every turn, the new stars of the show rose to prominence, and as they took up the leading role with an earnest vigour, they showed they had just as much talent and bravery as their predecessors. It dealt in detail, and drama; a two hundred mile an hour soap opera. Success for those who never expected it, frustration for those who expected it to be handed to them. Several characters grew familiar, forming lifelong bonds and earning one anothers respect, while other relationships soured under the scrutiny of the arena. Hostility arose between friends, between rivals, as the heat of competition led to them boiling over, both on track and off it."

"However, as tensions rose on the character front, the tensions of the plot rose in tandem. New stars, shining ever so bright, fight for their place in the history books, to show themselves worthy of immortality. Such different approaches, such different characters and styles and ideologies and walks of life, all to be separated by just ten points at the close of business. Such was the drama of 2018."

"The leading men and women of yesteryear are gone; there is no champion on this grid. No guiding figure, no dominant antagonist to be topple, like a long reigning despot of old. Who will lead this sport into a new era, what with the previous designators of such having moved onto greener pastures? Who will take the bull by the horns and show themselves to be the new standard bearer? One more episode. One more fight. One more race."

"Lights out, and away we go."

* * *

 **If I can finish this season before my break ends, I will yeet myself into space. I've stalled to give this grand finale all the gravitas it's worth, but we may finally have to get to the goddamned Brazilian Grand Prix. We're almost home; can Kallen win? Find out soon; and please review the story.**

 **~Eth0**


	30. OK30 - Climax

**OK Number 30 - Climax**

* * *

 _TW - Heavy swearing, obscene and offensive slurs, violence, all isolated to this chapter._

* * *

"And it's lights out, and away we go, as Kallen gets a good start, but Suzaku gets a better one! They're pulling away down the main straight, Suzaku is just pulling alongside… oh, they're so close, as they go side by side into turn one, the two championship contenders are going wheel to wheel through the turn… Suzaku nips ahead, but Kallen will have a better run onto the back straight… oh, but Suzaku hogging the kerb is going to compromise her speed as well and, and- and there's Gino! Gino Weinberg, who waited behind them as they went side by side into the corner, was the only one who got a smooth run through the corner, and he's pulling up alongside them to make it three wide down the back straight! Oh my goodness me, Gino's going to overtake them both!"

Jeremiah ran short of breath for having spent the best part of thirty seconds excitedly screeching at the top of his voice, just as Gino, with the best exit of the front runners, shifted to the outside to streak ahead, before barrelling into the second corner, cutting aggressively across Suzaku's nose, as the championship leader found himself sandwiched in the closing gap between Gino and Kallen.

Likely not wanting to throw away his race on lap one, Suzaku blinked first, braking heavily and putting himself out of the battle for the corner in a moment of self preservation.

Kallen, lacking such instincts, held her line on the inside, before allowing her car to naturally drift out wide on corner exit, understeering towards the exit kerb and trying to close out Gino. However, Gino's nose was ever so slightly ahead of Kallen's, and he was able to swoop in and across Kallen, forcing her to concede the position to avoid a crash. Diethard, having watched the scene unfold, took over from an exhausted Jeremiah, recounting what was unfolding at a rapid pace.

"As we enter the Ferradura, Gino has fought out a lead from Kallen, but she's coming back at him down his inside, and they go side by side, but Gino has the less rubbered line, and he just manages to find the grip to hold his nose in there as- and someone's gone off! There's been an accident in the midfield, and- and it's Lelouch! Lelouch has made contact with Kewell, and they're both off!"

Diethard paused as he tried to see what the condition of the cars were. Kewell was firmly in the tyre barrier, but Lelouch was able to continue, although, having spun out into the tarmac runoff, he was now last, and without a front wing.

"We'll have to see a replay of that to see who was to blame, but this is abysmal news for Lelouch's championship, as he's now down in last place, and needs to pit for a new wing. He's gonna need an intervention, from a change in weather, or a safety car-"

"Or God, more likely." Jeremiah cynically interjected, as they heard the team radio exchange of Lelouch and his chief engineer, which could be summarised as a series of increasingly mad swearing. In any case, the replay came promptly, allowing them to see from the top down what happened.

"Yeah, Kewell leaps up his inside but… he doesn't have the grip, and sways wide into Lelouch. He's ahead when they make contact, but I don't think he was going to make the corner, he was just spearing off it, and took Lelouch with him." Jeremiah observed. "Ach, that's so unfortunate, unless something quite strange happens, I think that may just be championship over for Lelouch Lamperouge."

"Indeed, indeed, however at the front, the fight rages on. Kallen is still sniffing away at Gino's rear, and if she can gain that place she would move into a championship winning position, with Suzaku falling slightly behind in third."

However, Gino was not letting her by without a fight, and was able to, with clean air, carve out clean lines, while Kallen was caught up in his thick wake, skating and wobbling as she was forced to manhandle the car, jostling and lugging the car to keep with the leading car.

It was not until the first pit stops that Kallen was able to stop driving to maintain position and start driving to advance it. As Gino moved to pit, Kallen was released from behind him, turning up the engine just as Ohgi was heard radioing her, with an urgent, yet inspiring tone.

"Two qualifying laps, come on Kallen, everything you've got! Pull a gap now, and after the stop you can jump him! Oshiyoseru!"

Kallen did not need any more encouragement. Putting the hammer down, she delivered positively blistering laps once she was out on her own, setting the fastest lap of the race before, after another rapid circulation, rocketed into the pit lane. Rolling into her box, Diethard narrated the closing gap to Gino, as they waited to see whether she had done enough to skip ahead of him in the stops.

"It's a good stop, two point two seconds, and now she's rolling down the pit lane. Gino is just coming up the Subido Dos Boxes now, it's going to be so close… Gino will be going a lot faster up to the first corner, but Kallen will be able to get a brief shortcut onto the Reta Oposta. Gino, with his fresh wet tyrers is barrelling through turn one, but Kallen is out! Kallen is away, and she has the lead, but Gino has much more speed onto the straight, he closing at a rate of knots, he's got so much speed over her, and he dives to the inside! So close to touching, but they keep it just within the lines as Gino brakes just ahead of Kallen- oh, but he's ran wide! A wheel, dipped onto the grass at the edge of the track, and now Kallen's going to get back at him!"

As Gino bogged down, Kallen, who was just behind, nearly ran into the back of him, however she was just about able to wrench the wheel and flick the car out of the way of Gino as his momentum stalled, instinctively avoiding the sudden roadblock.

"And Kallen is ahead! Kallen leads the Brazilian Grand Prix! Unless Suzaku can catch Gino, Kallen will be the World Champion!"

However, to count Gino out would be mistaken. It took him a lap to build up his flow back up, but the Briton had taken the fight to Cornelia, and was well able to take the fight to Kallen. With Kallen's car now suffering from its qualifying focused setup, with the brakes now beginning to overheat slightly, Gino's gap increasingly closed, and the chase was on.

"Between Kōzuki and Weinberg, the gap was two point five seconds, and look now!" Jeremiah exclaimed, as the broadcast cut to an onboard shot from Gino's Camelot. "We're with Weinberg, and ahead is Kallen Kozuki, as the Briton fights for his second victory at the Brazilian Grand Prix in a row, as Kallen fights for her first Championship, through Pinheirinho! It's so so close, just three tenths of a second, as Gino, who can practically touch Kallen's rear bumper, jostles for position behind her as they shoot through Mergulho, almost attached, almost with Gino pushing Kallen along through the corner! He loves this track, and you can tell, as he's all over the back of Kallen! Can he ruin her day? Let's see, now as they go into Junção…"

Gino dove to her inside, however Kallen, taking a wide arc, was able to switch back on him, getting the far better exit and streaking ahead onto the main straight. Their duel continued all the way up to the second pit stop, the pair of them inseperable. Diethard tried to cover proceedings, as Kallen pulled off into the pits.

"And now, Kallen is pitting for her third and likely final set of wet tyres ahead of Gino, who again will likely stay out for a few more laps to try and overcut the Japanese driver. You can see how much her aggressive driving has hurt, as she has to pit quite early due to tyre wear, while Gino can push for longer and may jump ahead once he himself pits. However, if Kallen can do a blistering out lap, she may be able to preserve her advantage."

"She'll need to have good lap times more than anything." Jeremiah emphasised. "She can't afford to let anything slow her even a little bit over the next two to three laps, even if she loses a few tenths Gino will be able to leave the pits ahead of her."

"And the reason, of course, this is so important, is that Suzaku still holds that all important third place, and by some margin, so if Kallen cannot keep a lead after the pit stops, he will take the world championship on points. Kallen needs to deliver everything she can, however she will face traffic, as cars who have fallen behind in this race come up to be lapped. Looking at the track map… Shinichiro Tamaki is a few seconds up the road, and then, a few seconds ahead- Lelouch Lamperouge?"

Indeed, Diethards surprised pronouncement was as correct as it was remarkable. After his lap one tangle with Kewell, Lelouch had to pit for a new wing. Having dropped to the back of the pack, he had changed to Intermediate tyres in a desperate bet that conditions would change, considering it his only possibility to get back into contention. His long awaited pause in the rain never came, and by the time he conceded and switched back onto Wet tyres, he was already last by almost half a minute, and he had made no real headway into the main pack.

Now only second to last, he was about to face the ultimate humiliation of being lapped by a team mate. Kallen needed him to not impede her, or else her chances of beating Gino would be scattered, and the Championship with it. Diethard suddenly understood the monumental importance of what was happening, just as Lelouch's team radio crackled into life.

"Lelouch, Kallen is coming up to lap you, P2, P2. Do not obstruct her, this is for the championship."

Diethard nodded, as Jeremiah explained "A-and that's the call from Taizo Kirihara- who does not often come onto the radio- to Lamperouge, telling him to get out of the way."

"You can see the blue flags now coming out Jeremiah, the marshalls are blue flagging him."

Diethard extended his arm, and said "For those viewers who are a bit newer to this sport, if a driver falls a lap behind and is to be overtaken by a car on the leading lap- which often happens to backmarker cars these days- the rules say that the slower car must give way. Lelouch is in second to last position, he isn't racing Kallen for, erm... position, and so, by waving blue flags, the race officials are letting him know that he needs to avoid obstructing Kallens race."

"Interesting that the team are radioing that in, particularly with the head honcho, in light of reported tensions with Lelouch, but I can't imagine with the championship in the balance, they want to take any risks."

"Surely not Diethard, surely not. And now, as they enter the curves in the second sector, we can just about make out Kallen, buried in the midst of Lelouch's wake. Abysmal race from Lelouch today, to be nineteenth as your colleague, in second, comes up to lap you. What a sad state of affairs for the French driver."

The commentator nodded along, though more for his own benefit as he remained invisible to the viewing public. Lelouch's day had gone from bad to worse with floor damage, a puncture, and miserable pace in what proved to be apocalyptically wet conditions worthy of Biblical tales of arcs and the end of days. He was visibly floundering, his car waddling through the wall of water, oscillating between nervous skating under lateral load and plain old bogging down under acceleration. He kept it on track at the very least as the pair, now nose to tail, slipped through Mergulho.

"Here they go then, into the third sector. I would imagine… I would imagine that this is where he's going to let her past, isn't that right Diethard?"

"One would think so, but… my word, the visibility is atrocious. Either way, they're both getting good drive up the hill… Lelouch pulls a bit to the outside line, presumably to honour the blue flags. Once more, what a race to forget for Lelouch Lamperouge, lapped by his teammate as they move into the braking zone for turn on- ah! Oh, oh my word, she's hit him! Kozūki hits Lamperouge! Oh my goodness me, she's just ploughed straight into his inside rear tyre, and they're both off!"

Ploughed may have been an understatement, Diethard realised in retrospect, as the two cars speared off the track and into the infield. On impact, Kallens front spoiler and right front tyre blew off, flying about the front of the car as the nose rammed into Lelouch's sidepod. T-boned, Lelouch was launched to the side as his barge board crumpled like a sheet of paper. The two carbon wrecks flew together, before separating as the rear of Lelouch's car hit the outer track barrier and spun suddenly to the right, finally exhuming itself from the bowels of Kallen's nose cone, with Kallen herself, down one wheel and leaking brake fluid like it was going out of fashion, freed to trundle off and contemplate what in the world had just happened.

Diethard struggled to think of what to say next. Apportion blame, perhaps? The onus had been on Lelouch to move out of the way, and it appeared as if he had swooped into the corner moments before the apex, however it seemed as if Kallen could have been far more cautious in how she approached the corner. He had no idea how to call it, however, as he thought through the ramifications of this collision, another penny dropped.

"And… and that means, Suzaku Kururugi is the 2018 Formula One World Champion! He doesn't even have to finish, because as we can see from this camera here, Lelouch has pulled off to the side to retire, and Kallen surely can't be long in joining him. We'll have to wait for the replay, but I'd wager that front right suspension is done for."

"Well now…" Jeremiah began, clearly out of breath, and shocked by what had transpired. "That was certainly a prescient message from Taizo, was it not?"

"Certainly Jeremiah. Let's see a replay, parse out what happened."

They moved towards a reply, from a camera above the action that gave a clearer perspective. Jeremiah commentated over the slow motion footage.

"He gives her space on the inside, he pulls out, and- look, suddenly the closing speed jumps, and then her right front wallops into his left rear. What it looks like to me is that Lelouch, as well as giving space, probably broke early to let her past, and she wasn't expecting it at all. It's-"

"Excuse me, sorry to interrupt you there, but Kallen is now pulling into the pits- the team does not have a set of tyres ready and that does seem to imply- yes, yes they're not working on the car, yes it seems Kallen is now officially out of the Brazilian Grand Prix. Where's Lelouch?"

"He's driven a bit beyond… he's not at the first corner, I can see from our commentary box. He's- ah, the camera's caught him, he's parked up on the inside of the Reta Oposta."

"Smart move, keeps the car on the inside of the track for easy recovery. Still, there's a lot of debris at turn one, so I'd imagine a safety car is not that far away."

Diethard shook his head as the camera followed Suzaku, who continued to drive without celebration as if unaware of the news. He was a deserving champion, but this was not a preferable turn of events.

"I must say, that's an awfully sad way for the World Championship to be decided, as Kallen is wheeled back into the garage. Suzaku is your new World Champion, and Lelouch, who began this race a point ahead of Kallen, will retain second place. Now, you can see that front end on Kallens car as she pulls in, the whole suspension mechanism was torn from its mountings. It's a miracle the wheel remained attached, such is the rigorous safety requirements for these cars."

Diethard paused, however Jeremiah was quick to follow up on this note.

"Of course, I'm not sure what levity these technical details may bring to a surely emotional Kallen Kozūki, who is now out of contention for the championship, and getting out of the car. Look, she's just hurled the wheel out of her car across the garage, oh dear. What words can possibly come close to relieving her… I certainly don't know the answer."

They were silent, as Kallen, visibly irate, incensed, apoplectic, livid, incandescent, hopping mad, and a thousand other adjectives, roared violently beyond their ability to hear, as Jeremiah shook his head, and narrated the scene further.

"I can confirm she is now out of the car, and according to people on the ground, she is absolutely furious. There she is now, we can see her, she's storming out of the garage. She's going straight to the stewards, no doubt, and she may have a case to make, as she storms down the pit lane. She'll be going right to them and demanding justice. You can make her out there, she's just ripped off her balaclava, the red hair, she is positively beside herself, marching down to talk to the... She's- she's gone past the tower, she's gone past the stewards, where is she going?"

Both commentators were at a loss for words for some time as she marched through the infield like a woman on a mission, however it was Diethard that broke the silence.

"Just, as a note, I'm getting word from our pit lane reporter who cannot emphasize enough how cross she is. She's after shouting at someone, she's being chased by engineers and all sorts, where is… she's going down turn- oh, oh oh, she's going to Lamperouge! She's going straight to Lelouch at the exit of turn one! Goodness me!"

* * *

Lelouch was still sat at the perimeter of the track, gazing at the passing train of cars lined up behind the safety car when Kallen hollered his name with all the rage any human could inject into a centimeter and a half of vocal cord, and he had only just just turned back around to face her when she delivered the mother of all sucker punches straight into the centre of his face.

Brutally satisfyingly, it landed right on the apex of his proud, narrow nose, exploding it into a faint red mist whose ambient glory was amplified by the hot rain. Lelouch flinched back, clutching the bloody remains of his nose, broken in one mammoth strike.

What followed from Lelouch may have been an expletive, but with his nose drowned in blood and his mouth in the grips of his paws, Kallen couldn't tell, nor did she care to tell. She had plenty of things she wanted to say, and given the adrenaline pumping through her body, much of it came out all at once.

"What the fuck- you asshole, why did you, you brake checked me before the braking zone you sack of shit! Do you have any idea what the hell you just did you inbred frog? What the hell, you, braking, the fuck?"

Kallen seemed prepared to go on for some time in this incoherent manner, however as Lelouch turned back towards her, one arm extended limply, she saw red, and delivered a second vicious slug to his tall cheekbone, protruding like a target. She felt her knuckles wound slightly off the bone, but she doubted the thump hurt her as much as it did Lelouch, who recoiled back, collapsing onto his behind as he roared in pain. Eager to avoid more pain, Lelouch tried to curl up into a ball and protect his head, cradling his skull with his hands. However, he was not quick enough to prevent Kallen from availing of an opportunity to deliver a boot to the side of his head, stomping his temple with her heel.

"This was for the Championship, yea? You miserable cheat, you crashed into me to save your second place. You knew your pathetic ass wasn't good enough, dicking about in nineteenth, not a chance or a hope, and thought you could endanger both our lives for a few thousand quid. Is it worth it you psycho? Is it fucking worth it?"

This line of inquiry continued for some time from Kallen, accompanied by repeated kicks to his side, the toe of her boot ramming into the whimpering man's gut. Again and again, she struck at his exposed vitals with vicious strikes, toe-bogging his liver before stamping at his skull again with her heel. It was an utterly one sided beating, as she repeatedly battered the pathetic figure, crumpled on the grass. Lelouch did not, and indeed could not respond beyond increasingly garbled pleas for help, which eventually came as marshalls rushed to apprehend Kallen, grabbing her from behind by the arms and pulling her away from her bloody victim. She writhed, but quickly was restrained. She was still apoplectic, but realizing that she was physically outmatched by what was now five marshalls, she elected to simply shoot vicious daggers into Lelouch's crumpled form, incandescent in a more contained, focused way. There would almost certainly be consequences for her, but Lelouch had to learn his lesson.

Of course, she doubted everyone else would see it that way.

She was eventually hauled to a back room in the FIA building, kept alone as the authorities attempted to unpack what they should do. She had an injection of amused pride in discovering she had made the local news, displayed on a fuzzy CRT television in the top corner of the room. Apparently, Lelouch was being helicoptered away for medical attention after Kallens beating, with medics suspecting a damaged liver from the kick, not to mention his facial damage. He would live.

Her fate was another matter, which became apparent as Naoto entered the room, hair standing on ends from a nervous sweat and visible rage. His limp had been left behind some time ago, and his voice, croaky and just about audible, seemed to be joining it.

"What on Earth got into you? Jesus, your career is over! What the hell did you just do?"

* * *

 **~Eth0**


	31. OK31 - Fainéant

**OK Number 31 - Fainéant**

* * *

"After the shocking conclusion to yesterdays Grand Prix, Lelouch Lamperouge, who suffered significant injury following his grievous assault at the hands of his teammate Kallen Kozuki, was helicoptered to the Accident and Emergency ward of the nearby Sao Paulo Hospital, where it emerged that the prognosis of trackside officials was ultimately incorrect. In addition to his multiple broken bones and a potential ruptured stomach, it emerged late last night that he had suffered significant brain trauma due to the various blows to the head inflicted on him by Kozuki. Multiple doctors worked late into the night to stabilise his condition, however based on a statement released this morning by the hospital it does not appear that he will ever be able to race again."

"In particular, blunt trauma to the right side of his head appears to have damaged his primary motor cortex, which leaves him susceptible to permanent physical and mental disability. However, as we go to press, the surgeons are in the theatre with him attempting to arrest his internal bleeding at the liver. While he remains in critical condition, he is reportedly stable, though it is not known how much of Lelouch may return to us once he is discharged, in light of the gravity of his injuries."

"In related news, solicitors representing the three Lamperouge siblings, independent of the broader family in light of their collective emancipation, have filed a civil action against Kozuki in Brazilian courts for losses flowing from the injury. As Lelouch was on a two year contract, this could extend beyond the cost of Lamperouge's medical bills, and include paying for earnings lost pursuant to the assault, depending on the ruling. We will keep you updated as we learn more."

* * *

It had been a gruelling task reaching Lelouch's hospital bed. Between the media swarming the outside of the building and the denizens of the Vila Clementino haplessly going about their day, access to the Accident and Emergency ward was hard to come across, even for the younger sister of the injured. By the time Nunnally Lamperouge had found the room, and the means to enter it, Lelouch had gone through two rounds of surgery, and was filled with more drugs than a Russian athlete, but alive.

But not conscious.

She rolled her wheelchair towards his bedside and moved her hand to grasp his, cradling his exposed index and middle finger in hers, as he lay still in the bed, face covered in bandages and body completely limp.

She wondered if this was what it was like for Lelouch, as an overwhelming feeling of helplessness fell over her. All she wanted to do was something; anything, if it would make his material situation better. That she had no capacity, that there was no productive avenue for her to pursue but to sit and worry, drove her up the wall, almost to the point where she distracted herself from the implications.

Lelouch wouldn't be able to drive, which already was an issue. But that was simply one of the knowns, and there were plenty of unknowns as to how bad the extent could be. Would he be able to hear? To speak? To walk? Any one of these would be catastrophic in their own uniquely cruel way, and yet Nunnally was, for the second time in her life, in the dark.

A nurse came in and out, leaving a few needles and some encouraging words, but precious little else. They were just as in the dark as she was, which was hardly encouraging, as she felt so desperately alone. Rolo was on the other side of Sao Paulo and had not yet been told, given that he himself had a race today that she did not want to compromise. Even so, it did little to aid the overwhelming sense of fear that crept over her, as she sat in the hospital, shivering with nerves.

She shook herself forcefully, at least insofar as her body was able to. Lelouch had been in exactly this situation before, when she had been injured, and he could well have been as scared as she was; in fact, in spite of his brave face, she would bet on it. However, he didn't give in. He had made sure to look after her, and had succeeded and then some. Nunnally would not be outdone.

Lelouch was going to be just fine. Nunnally would make sure of it. She would not be afraid; she was ready to repay Lelouch's kindness in kind.

"Where is he? I need to see him!"

The desperate, hoarse shout rang through the thin hospital door, dry and emotional. Nunnally turned just as the shouter barrelled through the door, and revealed himself to be Suzaku Kururugi. His hair was sweaty and standing at all ends, and he had clearly been crying at some point earlier in the day.

He stood at the door, mouth half open as he panted, catching his breath as he took a look at his friends condition. Eyes wider than anyone Nunnally had ever seen, he slowly approached the bed, pale and shaking with shock.

"I remember when I last saw him…" he whispered, trembling. "He was on the grid, pacing up and down. He was so fidgeting, couldn't keep him still…"

Suzaku paused, as his head shook. Contrasting the mobile, jerky Lelouch from the last time he had seen him with the still body that lay before him was visibly causing Suzaku quite a bit of disquieted distress. It took him some time to dab at his eyes, before he could continue.

"I remember saying to him, 'Be careful, you clot- I need you keeping my soles lit.'…"

Nunnally moved towards the foot of the bed, and, holding Suzaku's hand, reassured "He'll be okay. He's not going to go down without offering some witty remark."

Suzaku chuckled through his shivers, nodding at her sound logic. Lelouch may not be brawny or sturdy, but he was tough. Suzaku knew that much from the Frenchman's teenage years, where he prowled the Formula Three paddock with scowls and an unstoppable determination, and Nunnally expected the same resilience from her brother now as then.

However, there was not much to say beyond this at that point, and Nunnally, hoping to avoid the harrowing quiet, acknowledged "Well done on winning the championship."

Suzaku smiled morosely, as his eyes stayed fixed on his friend. Head tilted, he noted "I cried on the podium. I hadn't heard at that point what had happened to him, not until later on, but I was just… it meant everything. And then, to hear about how Lelouch was injured, it was just horrible. I didn't know what had happened, or how bad it was, just that he'd been hurt. They wouldn't let me in for ages."

"I know." Nunnally sympathised. "I was a good while waiting as well."

Suzaku winced, realising he was being more than a little self-absorbed. Trying to compensate in his realisation, he squatted down to Nunnally's height and rested a hand on her shoulder, before saying "I'm just his friend, and I'm already like this. I can't imagine how much you're going through right now. You're so incredibly strong. If you or your family needs anything in the future, please let me know. Anything at all."

Nunnally gave a weak smile, and nodded, at least as much as she could. Suzaku gravely received this, before standing.

"I'll see about making sure this gets sorted, financially." Suzaku explained. "Don't you worry about a thing. Just don't tell him I cried."

Finally chuckling, Nunnally cheekily replied "No promises."

* * *

Kallen had argued Lelouch's deserving of his beating until she was blue in the face and Naoto had stormed off in frustration. She was eventually released when it was revealed that Brazilian State Prosecutors had no intent of pursuing criminal charges on her, though she was told that the FIA would soon summon her to a sporting sentence, and she was liable to tort action. Over the course of her twelve hour detention, her adrenaline had hardly tapered, as she continued to feel justified in her actions, even as she was released back into Sao Paulo.

Indeed, it was not until three hours later, once she had made her way through the waiting throngs of media and rented a quiet hotel room to unwind and had checked her voicemail, that she began to realise the trouble she was in.

"Ms Kōzuki, this is Taizo Kirihara, speaking on behalf of the Rebellion Racing board. In light of events that unfolded during the Brazilian Grand Prix, the board has decided to revoke your contract of employment with immediate effect. The early termination fee will be paid to your private account as agreed. We wish you the best of luck in your ongoing career."

Kallen sat at the foot of the rooms bed as the consequences of what she had done dawned on her. It was not just that Rebellion had seen fit to basically fire her, which was already a disaster, but the other shoe dropped when she considered where she consider what Taizo termed her 'ongoing career'.

Who in the hell would hire her now?

Kallen called Naoto to try and work out what to do, dialling up the first number on her contacts list in the hope that he would move past her roaring at him the previous night.

Pressing the call button, she held the phone to her ear as the tone rang up, holding her breath as the connection was made before she was greeted with an immediate hiss of "What the hell do you want?"

Choking, she said "Naoto, I-"

"You've been fired, yes I know you have you fool." he shot back, cutting across her aggressively. "And you called me to bail you out. Well think again. You're not an ounce sorry, you're just sorry that you're facing consequences for it. Well here's another one for you to think about; sod off and actually think about what you've done. Don't call me for help, you won't find it. Hell, don't come back to the flat in Tokyo until you've grown up. I bet you haven't even called the Lamperouge family, hm?"

Kallen was silent, proving Naoto's point. He made a demeaning tsk sound, before ranting on.

"I don't like the prick, but I didn't pull him aside and deck him. His life is ruined now. Have a moment of some self-reflection before buzzing me for help. You've made a point of showing that you can make your own decisions; what with betting your seat against Tohdoh. Fine. But if that's the case, you have to face the consequences for your decisions. Good luck, you silly child."

Kallen couldn't hear, but she had little trouble imagining that he slammed his phone down when he hung up on her. And, with that, she was alone. She felt her stomach twist itself as if it were a wet hand towel being wringed out for moisture.

She swore, quietly but forcefully. This was her fault. Naoto was harsh, but unavoidably correct; there was no point in weeping for her own challenges, as they were wholly self imposed. She had run herself up this one way road, had backed herself into this corner.

However, Kallen had been in a corner before, and as she washed herself with the cool water of the sink, she looked back up at the mirror and examined the face looking back at her in the mirror.

It wasn't sad; Kallen was not one to be gloomy or subdued, and certainly not fatalistic. It had elements of anger, entirely self directed, however rage was not the overriding emotion. It was grim, joyless, and wore the full recognition of the position she had put herself in. However, it was laced with a silent acknowledgement of duty, an understanding that she had a task ahead of her and that its course to completion would be difficult, and humiliating, and entirely deserved, and that she would, no matter how long it took, complete it.

* * *

"Can you move your left hand?"

"Hurts like hell, but I think so. Can you look?"

"It's clenching and uncurling, good."

Lelouch winced, as he released the fist formed on his left side. The movement was vague and numb, but whether that was drugs or long term damage remained to be seen.

He had woken up in a shroud of lights and panic, dreaming of choking on blood and feeling wracked with pain, even as the medication tried to mask it. It was, at least initially, more the memory and mental sense of agony than the actual sensation itself, however that legacy pain was quickly beaten out by the fading of the opiods that had held the real beast at bay. However, he could tell when he could move, even if it was through the aching and stabbing spasms that accompanied it.

"How about your right hand?"

"I've no feeling, I can't feel anything."

Lelouch reported the feeling succinctly; there was no connection that his brain could form between the will to act and any sensation in his left hand. It was surreal to sense the absence, as if it had been placed in a deep freeze to induce the ultimate numbing. His voice wavered towards the end as he realised the implications. Sighing, the nurse said "I just poked a needle into the centre of your right palm. What did you feel?"

"Nothing…"

"Can you move any part of your right arm?"

Lelouch gritted his teeth and tried to inject energy into the area he associated with his right arm, before groaning "I'm trying, is it?"

"It's not even tensing up."

Lelouch sighed, and shut his eyes. So his right arm was gone. One out of four limbs wasn't as bad as it could be, but it was still quite the uncanny sense that it would never return, that it was now lost forever and nothing could be done to restore it. Such a fundamental part of him that he had grown up having at his disposal, that he had used to steer himself to vague success, now eternally limp and helpless. He was now inert, his capacity to ply his trade now lost.

"I'm going to snap my fingers by your ears to test them, okay?"

Lelouch opened his eyes again, realising his nurse was not yet finished with him, and he croaked "Okay."

Not able to move his head, a function of his bandaging rather than injury thank goodness, he could only keep a close listen as the nurse leaned close, and, sure enough, he heard a definite clicking, muted by gloves to deliver a bassy, yet sharp and audible noise in his left ear.

"Clear as day." he affirmed.

He saw her hand retreat before it moved over his head and down past the edge of his peripheral vision, arm held up above his face. She was now testing his right ear, and he tried to distinguish the sound as she snapped her fingers again and again.

"It's faint, I can make it out but it's muffled."

She frowned, before taking a moment to press a wet cloth against his left ear, blocking it off, before moving her hand back across. After a few moments of silence, he whispered fearfully as he realised what had happened.

"I can't hear anything."

The cloth was removed, as he sighed. An ear and an arm, both to neurological damage. Not to mention the incessant headache that no amount of medication could beat out, and would in all likelihood stay with him for an extended period.

At least his stomach was repaired. According to the small talk he had engaged in over the last few hours, he was lucky his condition was not worse, as surgery to fix ruptures within his insides was performed within hours of the injury, a consequence of the repeated boots to the gut. The boots to the head may have disabled him, but it could always be worse.

Saying all this in his head did little to comfort him, Lelouch acknowledged. It was still a less than preferable situation, and one where he struggled to imagine a way to spin it.

He had been in bad situations before. He had been homeless, without a drive, beaten at the races, and broke at different points in his life, but at each instance he had made an effort to spin failure into success. He had converted a tragic backstory into sponsor appeal, controversy into publicity, and a lack of pace into a penchant in race strategies.

Motorsports punditry? Commentary? Perhaps, but accusations of a lack of impartiality would make that difficult to get into, what with his relationship with Rebellion having soured and the possibility of his brother Rolo getting a drive in the future. He had made efforts earlier in the year to in effect advertise himself when what he deemed to be his inevitable booting from Rebellion finally arrived, however that was predicated on projecting driving talent, a campaign proven redundant by Kallen's assault, which had removed his capacity to drive competitively.

The only possibilities lay now in chance, some unlikely happening that he could take advantage of. He did not know what it could be, and knew that he would not be able to predict it before it arrived, but his hopes now rested in some future disruption that he could take advantage of. He disliked the uncertainty, but it could be worse.

He'd pinned his future on the happenings of chance many times before.

* * *

 **Fortunately, I dictate chance, and there's something quite significant that is going to disrupt things rather spectacularly. However, while Lelouch has pinned his flag to the mast of probability, Kallen will have to do a lot of leg work to redeem herself after lashing out like she did. Given her well exhibited brashness, unwillingness to back down, and short temper, can she do it? We'll see. In any case, please leave a review, it's so great to hear what you have to say!**

 **~Eth0**


	32. OK32 - Baby Steps

**OK Number 32 - Baby Steps**

* * *

"Steady, steady, mind your hips!"

Nunnally smiled, before reaching across and holding onto Lelouch's waist, steadying him as he leaned onto the front of his legs. He was unsteady, and required an abdominal brace, as well the aid of both of his siblings and a nurse to hold himself upright, however, with some difficulty, he was up and standing, using his left arm to balance. There was a moment of uncertainty, before a celebratory mood came over the room.

"You're doing it!" Rolo cheered, as the hands propping up Lelouch's torso gradually withdrew to see if he could balance himself. With some hesitation, he was able to sustain his own verticality, causing him to let out a celebratory laugh of joy.

It had been a week since he had woken up, and most of his bandaging had been removed, but for his most wounded extremities in the forehead, nose and stomach. He was not going to be released from general medical care for some time, however plans were in the works to transport him back to France for long term care. However, the Brazilian staff had done extremely well by Lelouch, and the proof was visible, at least to Nunnally; here he was, standing upright! On the night of the incident, that he would stand again, that he would speak again, was in doubt.

But here he was standing, laughing! Nunnally could only join in, and Rolo looked absolutely delighted, as Lelouch just about kept himself upright.

However, his moment of erect stature was short lived, as he fell back into a seated position within about a minute. Concerned, Nunnally and Rolo leaned in close, before Lelouch waved his hand about his face to signal his weariness, and they instinctively backed off, almost fretful.

"Ach, it's just my head starts spinning and I feel sick when I'm standing." Lelouch admitted. "I've got a migraine already, and it kicks into overdrive as soon as I stood."

"It's okay brother, don't push yourself too hard." Rolo encouraged, as Lelouch's head hung slightly, his skinny arms pressed onto his thighs, one active and one not. Nunnally patted him on the back as Lelouch took heavy breaths, trying to rectify his sense of place and stability.

"Damnit." Lelouch hissed, as he lay back onto the bed after a moment of pause. "Can't even stand for thirty seconds."

"Brother-" Nunnally whispered piteously, trying to disabuse him of such frustrations as his stomach brace was unwrapped. It hurt to see him be so constrained and needlessly frustrated at things beyond his control. Shaking her head, and deciding to begin her redress of Lelouch's years of helping her with her injuries, encouraged "You don't need to get frustrated that it's taking a while. You don't need to take care of us all on your own. We will be fine, you just need to recover at your own pace."

Though he was lying down at an acute angle to Nunnally, she could still he his eyes bulge as he baulked at her suggestion. Trying to calm him, she explained "Rolo is getting a lot of the sponsors you built relationships with, and I'm finished therapy and can begin university next year. You don't need to hold us all on your back. Now more than ever, you need to take it easy. You don't need to try and fight through it for our sake, we will be fine."

Lelouch groaned throatily, a combination of pain and frustration. Nunnally and Rolo cringed reflexively as his back arched, before he panted loudly. After a moment, he finally was able to speak again.

"You don't- it's my job. It's not your business… I can sort this all out. Don't you worry about me for a second. I will fix this. I always have, right?"

It was likely intended to be reassuring, to try and dissuade concerns and tell the two teens that things would be returning to normal soon enough, if he had anything to say about it. Just leave things to Lelouch, and all would be well.

However, instead of this, two different things were communicated. Firstly, Lelouch's insistence that Nunnally and Rolo ought not involve themselves read more as infantilising and dismissive than being borne of any confidence in his own capacity. He was, at least according to what he was communicating, more concerned with keeping them out of the loop for its own sake, fixated on the idea of preserving a dynamic that placed himself as the head of the household.

Of course, Nunnally did not believe he was malicious, more that, like a parent hearing about their child going on their first date, he was not quite ready to believe those in his care were as adult as they were.

The second unintentional communication was that he knew it. His insistence, moaned through gritted teeth and held breath was harsh in its tone and adamant in its exigence. It was a last gasp roar of desperation as he realised his position of being the one who would take care of the family was not long for this world. It was a frantic reaction borne of sudden panic at his arrival of the reality that he would now become what he would hate most; a burden to his siblings.

However, Nunnally had long grappled with this, by no means pleased or amused by her incapacitation over the recent past, and had resolved this concern. The three of them were a team, and if one of them were in trouble, the other two would move Heaven and Earth to make sure they were cared for. Just as Nunnally herself had been seen to, Lelouch would be.

Anything else simply would not do. Nunnally had a duty to Lelouch to make sure he was brought back to health, and she would not abdicate it any more than Lelouch would. While she was the furthest thing from confrontational, Nunnally had no intention of allowing her resolve or adult capacity to be placed into question.

As Lelouch lay back, spine held stiff in clear pain, Nunnally came across and tried to calm him. She wheeled close, Rolo standing above and behind him as Lelouch looked up at the pair of them.

"Please…" he groaned. "Don't worry, this is not your concern."

"When one of us is out of action, it becomes all of our concern." Nunnally replied. "We promised we'd look after each other when Dad threw us out, that it would be the three of us against the world. Not just you."

Lelouch's eyes began to tear as the nurse moved back, allowing the full, gangly body of the former racing driver. He bit his lip as his elbows and knees sat at naked angles, distracting from the bruised torso.

"You sprats… you weren't supposed to get mixed up in all this. You're teenagers for gods sakes. No teenager should be worried about hospital bills and managing family affairs."

"You were."

Lelouch lacked an immediate good response to this, however he was eventually able to spurt out "So you wouldn't have to!" in response.

Rolo, now short of patience, responded "How do you think we feel? Watching you like this? Imagine if Nunnally or I were hurt again, and we insisted that we would take care of it ourselves? How hurt would you be?"

Lelouch physically cringed, as Nunnally nodded to underline Rolo's good point. The eldest Lamperouge seemed to take some time to digest the point, like a rotten pill for indigestion or hubris. However, after the bitterness passed, he smiled.

"I guess you take after me more than I expected." he chuckled sourly, eyes screwed shut in a hollow combination of humour and disappointment. "Wanting to take charge and protect your loved ones to a fault. I guess I can't fault that can I?"

There was an uncertain silence, as Lelouch seemed to be lamenting their empathy. However, he dispelled this as he raised his good arm up to stroke Nunnally's hair, before giving a more genuine smile.

"I'm proud of you truth be told." he admitted. "It hurts that you had to grow up so fast as to have to go through this, but you're absolutely gone above and beyond. You're so amazing in stepping up, it's just that it hurts that you have to."

Nunnally nodded, understanding what he meant. That they had the wherewithal to take charge would represent in Lelouch's eyes a failure on his part to shield them from the harsh realities of the world that would provide them with the perspective to act in the fashion they did. But, as he now cried with a happy pride, he saw that in fact he had nurtured something quite beyond his intentions, different, but better.

"Well done." he nodded, before leaning his head back. "You're so strong. Thank you."

They sat in silence for quite some time, watching the sun trek through the sky out the window. None present felt like speaking, instead content to relax in one another's company, particularly as they basked in their newly refreshed common understanding, with nothing left unsaid.

Indeed, it was almost time for supper when there came a knock on their door, and a quiet call from the nurse.

"You've got a visitor, a Japanese colleague of yours."

Lelouch, still laid prone on the bed, called back "It's probably Suzaku, send them right in."

There was a pause, before the doorknob pulled away and the figure at the door stepped in, and Nunnally realised Lelouch was wrong in his presumptions.

Kallen Kōzuki stood at the head of the room, standing at her full height, though withdrawn in her body language.

The mood of the room immediately shifted. Rolo and Nunnally subtly repositioned themselves between the door and the bed, and Lelouch went very quiet. Kallen didn't speak initially, and Lelouch was uncharacteristically feart, as if intimidated by Kallen. It was Nunnally, who would not stand for Kallen causing her brother such angst, who broke the silence, barking "The hell are you doing here?" across the room.

"I just want to talk." Kallen replied, raising her hands slowly to her side. Out of the corner of her eyes, Nunnally saw Lelouch widen his, and so, turning back towards Kallen, she angrily shot back "You've done plenty of talking. Keep it short, and then buzz off. You've done enough damage."

"I'm here to apologise."

Rolo raised his eyebrow sceptically, before he cautiously warned "Say what you want to say, but keep your distance."

Kallen sighed, before nodding in appreciation of their concern. She stood a bit more upright, before speaking again.

"I am incredibly sorry for what happened. It was incredibly embarrassing, and I can't imagine what it has meant for you. I feel an immense shame for what happened, and it has been an awful time. I am so sorry for this whole affair, and I hope that you can forgive me for what I did."

Nunnally and Rolo exchanged glances, uncertain how to proceed, silent before Lelouch groaned from his position behind them. Turning back, Lelouch indicated he wanted to sit up, and Rolo immediately moved to prop him up, placing pillows behind his back as the French driver took a breath, gazing at Kallen's shoes with a nervous intent, at once evasive and focused.

"You aren't sorry for shit."

Rolo seemed shocked, but Nunnally knew what was coming next, as Kallen displayed a mix of surprise, fear, and a tinge of outrage. Lelouch, still failing to quite meet her eye, went on in a quiet, yet breathless fashion that demanded attention in its wheezy fury.

"Listen to your framing. You're only apologising because you are embarrassed. Because you feel shame for acting so improperly in public, like being rude over dinner. If only you had not so embarrassed yourself, then all would be well, surely! If only you had considered the consequences, that you would yourself suffer, then you wouldn't have done it! You aren't sorry for injuring me, for forcing me to retire, for humiliating me in front of my family and disabling me at all."

Lelouch, now shivering, cast his eyes up to meet Kallen's, if only for a brief moment, to conclude his hushed tirade.

"You aren't one bit sorry for what you did. You're sorry you were caught."

Kallen stood back for a moment, shaking her head with the horror of a woman feeling tragically misunderstood, as she raised her hands to try and explain herself in a fashion Lelouch would not be so disdainful towards.

"I'm sorry Lelouch… I was just aggravated. I was just so convinced that you'd hit me off the track intentionally, and that just was so-"

"Shut up."

Lelouch was no longer looking at Kallen, instead he was shuffling them down and to the left, head tilted away from the redhead exposing his neck and bruised scalp.

"Just stop, leave. You were convinced I'd tried to crash into you on purpose, so what? You bring that up as if it makes it okay, as if that makes that which you're apologising for go away. The only reason you'd bring that up is to shift the blame, which shows you're not sorry for a damn thing. You want to show you're sorry? Try showing it. Words are cheap, unless you can show your behaviour has changed, you can sod off."

"But-"

"Leave, if you know what's good for you."

The threatening murmur did not come from Lelouch, who was far too physically intimidated in light of personal experience to speak with such brutishly aggressive undertones. Instead, Rolo, masking his normally soft voice with a growl and glare, issued the warning, enforcing Lelouch's wishes that she leave.

Looking defeated, Kallen's head tilted to the side in a sad exasperation, before she let out a sigh and turned away, shutting the door behind her as she left with a ginger disappointment.

As soon as Kallen left, both Nunnally and Rolo turned back to Lelouch, who sat propped up for a few moments before falling onto his side in a sudden rush of breath. Rolo reached over to level his elder brother, laying him flat on the bed as he let all the stress of Kallens confrontation out in a series of breathless pants. He had been holding his breath for a time, his face red and eyes bulging.

"It's okay Lelouch, it's okay." Nunnally reassured. "It's going to be okay, just lie down now and relax She's gone."

Lelouch groaned, settling back as his siblings tended to his immediate needs. Clearly, in spite of his brave face, he had been heavily shaken by his beating, which was expected. Nunnally would not begrudge him it for a moment, but she knew Lelouch was still not used to being vulnerable, and so he tried to form a smile, and let out a hollow chuckle.

"Listen to that cheek, trying to blame everyone else. She's got cojones, I'll give her that."

Nunnally didn't respond, instead stepping back and surveying the scene. Her brother needed quite a bit of rest, she knew, and this misadventure had visibly drained him. With the cool examination she imagined he might have once performed, she noted that it may well be time to allow him to sleep, after both a few hours spent trying to get him to stand before confronting Kallen.

"Rolo, I think that we ought to let Lelouch get a nap." Nunnally instructed, taking charge of the scene. Her brother nodded respectfully, and immediately turned away towards the door after nodding respectfully. He waited at the arch for a moment, holding the door open for Nunnally, however, turning back, she shook her head, indicating she would follow in a moment after a brief goodbye. Understanding, he let the door fall closed behind him as Nunnally turned back around to face Lelouch, who presented a curious look with a lazy eyebrow and sceptical frown.

She sighed, as she wondered over whether to bring up her one concern. It would be more than a little insensitive, and perhaps ill timed, but in light of what Kallen had just said, there was no more perfect time.

"Was that true, what she said? Did you crash on purpose?"

Lelouch's raised eyes turned narrow, as he turned terse. Clearly, he did not want to be asked this question, particularly by his sister. That she might consider him to have done it intentionally was something of a rubicon, as he realised his image that he had built up was dead, just like his career.

However, Lelouch was nothing if not stubborn.

"This conversation is over."

* * *

 **Perhaps one of the least sympathetic things Lelouch has lost is his place as head of the household, what he considered his respect and rightful place. Indeed, a loss in respect is one of the most acute things Kallen has suffered, and one can contrast how much agency Lelouch and Kallen have both lost. However, there are not in my estimation any two more irrepressible characters that I have written, and I do not doubt that they will poke their heads back into the sport sooner rather than later. In any case, I'd like to thank Ryder77 for their fantastic review, which has given me tremendous energy, and would encourage you to also review the story as it is so far. I hope to see you again soon.**

 **~Eth0**


	33. OK33 - The Phantom Of The Racetrack

**OK Number 33 - The Phantom of the Racetrack**

* * *

"And now, back to sports news, and back to Formula One. In spite of the championship ending over a month ago, the headlights remain alight. The FIA prizegiving took place last night, with the top three driver and lead constructor receiving their respective honours for their success in the 2018 season. World Champion Suzaku Kururugi looked delighted as he received his trophy, and was officially crowned Champion of the World. Second placed Lelouch Lamperouge was unable to attend proceedings, and was represented by his younger brother Rolo, who gave an emotional acceptance speech on his brothers behalf."

"Controversially, Kallen Kozuki's appearance at the event to receive her third place award was marred by booing from attendees, manifesting when she stood on the stage to receive the glass trophy from erstwhile champion Cornelia McGlynn. The Briton moved to congratulate Kallen as a formality, however the crowd disagreed, and proceeded to issue a loud string of noise, likely as a response to her assault of Lelouch Lamperouge in the Brazilian Grand Prix. In any case, in spite of this response, the ceremony was able to proceed, and Kallen was ushered away to allow the room to quieten down."

"This, of course, is off the heels of her FIA court appearance last week with regards to sporting conduct in that exact incident, as the discipline board gathered to issue a reprimand for the Japanese driver. She was given a three month ban from racing, with a further nine months suspended. This means that, if she can find a team that would take her on, she would be barred from driving in the Australian and Bahraini Grands Prix, and would face an immediate nine month ban added on if she is ever in front of the board again over the next year."

"The seat she has vacated at Rebellion was recently announced as having been given to Kyoshiro Tohdoh, who is returning from a yearlong sabbatical to the team that made him a double world champion. The second seat remains to be filled, with heavy competition for the car that gifted its drivers second and third in the championship."

"Returning to last nights award ceremony, Lloyd Asplund, chief engineer and head of the Rosenberg team gratefully received the prize for top constructor, with Suzaku and Marrybel combined scoring the highest of any pairing over the season. It was a welcome relief for a team that was long overdue some good news given the talent and brains behind what has been a very small and tightly managed outfit."

"However, not all is well for the team, as it goes into its second week of rumoured financial troubles. After their title sponsor ASEEC has left the sport, the team has struggled with growing debts, with several suppliers growing vocally concerned as to the viability of the team as it exists right now. In golfing news-"

Lelouch clicked away from the news, before muting his television completely to mull over this information. It amused him that Kallen was booed, but it was of no moment as he considered the lattermost piece of news. It was certainly significant, both in a macro and micro sense; Rosenberg were not only the World Constructors Champions, but it was the vehicle through which Suzaku had found his success, and the material megaphone through which Lloyd Asplund was able to pontificate on the finer arts of car design. The loss of either would be grave, and Lelouch was fascinated as to what would happen next. Fortunately, he had the inside track on matters within the Rosenberg facility.

"Hello, this is Suzaku Kururugi, 2018 F1 World Champion, what can I do for you?"

Lelouch rolled his eyes as he held his phone to his ear, before replying "Careful, your head's getting so big you're not going to fit in the car. It's Lelouch."

"Ah, Lelouch, it's great to talk to you finally! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. At least I didn't cry."

Suzaku was silent for a moment, as Lelouch grinned evilly, before the Japanese champion sighed "Goddamn it Nunnally."

Lelouch laughed, before Suzaku with a healthy sense of self awareness joined in, and they chuckled together for some time, before Suzaku asked "So where are you now? I assume you're not in Brazil anymore."

"Indeed, I was flown back to France through Nice, and I've been in my home in Languedoc in the time since. I've even got my own personal nurse."

"Look at you, catching up on nineteen years of no rest." Suzaku teased, before continuing "This must be a whole new experience."

"Funny." Lelouch conceded, letting out a breath, before responding "So what is the Champion of the World doing with himself at the moment, mm? Where are you at?"

"Down at Silverstone, back at the factory." Suzaku replied, immediate and peppy in his enthusiasm.

"You're relentless." Lelouch chuckled, shaking his head.

"Thanks for the compliment."

Sighing, and feeling a bit bad for his friend, Lelouch asked "Mate, you've just won the biggest thing in your life, what you admitted was your one singular ambition, and now that you've finally done it you're getting back to work?"

"You have to." Suzaku affirmed. "To prove it. People might say I only won it because you crashed with Kallen, or because Kallen had poor luck in the beginning of the season."

"Forgive me, but it does sound like you're rather insecure."

"Bullshit."

Lelouch blinked, as Suzaku was not one to frequently engage in sudden brutal, decisive swears, particularly not as a hostile reaction. Put off by his friends vitriol, Lelouch was silent as Suzaku continued "I won my championship, sure. Now I want to prove I earned it. I need to come back next year stronger than ever and defend my victory, defend my title, show I didn't luck into it. That means hitting the ground running harder than ever."

Suzaku's voice was tired and aggressive, hoarse with an uncharacteristic prickliness. Stumbling for a moment, Lelouch had to pause before asking "Suzaku, are you alright mate? What's going on?"

The line was silent for a time, before Suzaku let out a sigh, which gave Lelouch some understanding. Knowing him, he was clearly under some pressure which was causing him to be so aggressive, which at once gave Lelouch some clarity and concern. Was the situation at Rosenberg worse than he thought?

"No, it's just…"

Suzaku cut himself off, before letting out a breath and beginning again.

"It's chaos down here. All the outstanding suppliers have come for the end of this fiscal quarter looking for their money, and it's just not here. The staff haven't been paid, and now the engine manufacturers have filed an injunction for contract violation. Lloyd has been panicked all day, and no one knows what's going on. If we can't get the suppliers paid, there's almost certainly going to be a winding up petition, and everyone's going to lose their jobs."

Lelouch didn't respond initially. This was bigger than he had ever imagined, and would represent a tragedy if it came to pass. However, this was not where his imaginations lay. As he mulled over the situation, instead of darkness, he saw a sudden light, with an obscured path becoming clear.

His eyes widened as he realised what he had to do.

"What about you? How much are you owed?"

He could almost hear Suzaku's brow furrowing as he was doubtless taken aback by such a rude inquiry into his personal finances, as the Japanese man began with outrage "How-"

Cutting him off, Lelouch hushed "No, don't- That's not why I'm asking. How much are you out of pocket?"

With some hesitation, Suzaku admitted "Fourteen million and change."

Lelouch baulked at that figure, before unavoidably replying "You were paid how much to hurl that monstrosity around a track every other week?"

Suzaku tutted, before responding "It's built up over a few months. I told them they could defer my pay to make sure the team finished the year in the form of a loan, but now that the term has expired they can't pay me back."

Lelouch processed this new information. If they couldn't pay back Suzaku, even if it was a lump sum, then his latest scheme could well be in business. He had an in, a moment of leverage to springboard his way back. However, things were different now.

"Lelouch? Hello?"

Realising he had been silent, he hurriedly replied "I'll call you back.", before slamming down the phone and frowning. This was huge, with chaos clearly the dominant force as Lloyd's lack of business sense caught up with him. Like a fly to honey, Lelouch found himself drawn to the scene as a plan revealed itself in his mind.

However, it was now not so easy. He was disabled, high on opioids and, with the tort suit of Kallen underway, likely to be set for life. He was now putting a great deal of what he had worked towards, security for his family, at risk.

However, there was undeniably something missing. One did not become a Formula One driver out of a rational financial decision. It would have been possible to take up a job in finance or investments that paid just as well, and carried with it a lower risk of paralysis. He could have retired at thirty with millions, and have done a far better job of making money for his household.

But he hadn't. One did not do what Lelouch did because one wanted to do well financially. They did it for the sense of adventure, for the rush of being, for a brief time, the fastest motorists on the planet, and the exotic locations, the drama, and the passion. Ever since messing about in French Formula Ford, Lelouch knew that that shot of adrenaline would be an addiction up to the day he died, even as he professionalised the endeavour.

He could, right now, decide to leave good enough alone, take his earnings, and retire to the countryside to allow Rolo to take the stage as he lounged about in Languedoc.

But he wouldn't. Lelouch was not built in such a way that he ever felt like leaving good enough alone.

At least, if he had a say. Because it was not just his household now.

"Nunnally! Rolo! Get in here, quickly!"

The pair rushed in, with Rolo arriving first and Nunnally wheeling herself in moments after with a furious whizzing of the arms about the tops of her wheelchairs spoked tyres. After they settled at the foot of his bed, he sighed, and looked them dead in the eye before beginning.

"I am about to do something incredibly stupid and reckless that could place our entire financial future on a slim possibility of success that is largely out of my hands. I have seen an opportunity, but it's a long shot and likely quite ill advised. This is very much high risk, high reward."

He tried to add weight to his words, however Rolo smirked, and replied "That's hardly new."

Nodding, Lelouch admitted "This is nothing new to me, but I figured you'd appreciate being consulted this time."

Desperate to impart the gravity of the situation, Lelouch spoke with a severity, but curiously, neither of his siblings seemed fazed by his words. Curious, Lelouch paused, before Nunnally explained.

"You're the best we've seen you in weeks. You've got that sense of adventure back into you, and it's great to see. I do appreciate the consultation, but I know better than to deny you when you've got that spark in your eye. We've been missing it. Just don't forget to bring us along for the ride."

In awe, Lelouch asked "What do you think I should do?"

"What you always say you do. Work out what Suzaku would do and do the opposite."

Now Lelouch could only laugh, his whole body contorting as Nunnally smoothly replied with one of his favourite lines. Far from his earlier sadness that Nunnally had grown to resemble some of his more cynical traits, he now saw the upside. She was so confident, so self-assured, so magnificent in her own capacity to shoot back, that Lelouch saw immediately how wring he was. Nunnally was not a girl, but a woman, and he realised that he was quite okay with that. Seeming to recognise Lelouch's good humour, she leaned back and smiled.

"Alright, so what's the plan?"

Letting the laugh trail off, he took a breath, as he finally allowed the breadth of his self-appointed mission to escape his lips. "We're going to save Rosenberg Grand Prix. Rolo, book a flight to England via Luton. Nunnally, get my laptop. The Lamperouge's are back in business."

Grinning, both of his siblings nodded before rushing to their duties as Lelouch dialled back Suzaku's number, holding the phone up to his ear with his one functioning arm as the Japanese man picked up the call, eager to get a word in in the confusion. However Lelouch, filled with an enthusiastic zeal, cut him off.

"Suzaku, this is your lucky day. I need you to listen to me very carefully. If we do this right, and have a bit of luck, then we will be able to save Rosenberg."

Suzaku sounded stunned, and replied with something expressing shock, though Lelouch did not hear as Nunnally presented his laptop to him, and he realised that he couldn't hold his phone and type at the same time. Wrestling his arm around his body, he nestled the phone between his shoulder and ear, head bent over to wedge it in place, before he began to type away with his one working hand and talk with Suzaku, barely able to hold the phone in place with his neck muscles.

"I'm about to email you two documents. The first problem is the engine supplier. If they get a court to serve papers, it's all over, so we need to address that first. Did you get the email?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Fill the whole thing out and send it to the High Court. What this does is get you a stay of execution from an order fourteen to pay up. Otherwise, you'd need to get it through CHAPS by… two o'clock, I think, tomorrow, and unless you know someone with a few million quid burning a hole in their back pocket that isn't going to happen. I've also sent you a picture of a signature for a guarantour, and this tells the court that money is on the way and that they should extend the deadline based on trust in the undersigner."

"Who's the undersigner?"

"Kaguya Sumeragi, your cousin. I'll be calling her later."

"Didn't she want to be your wife back when she was thirteen?"

Shuddering, Lelouch shut that train of thought down by replying "Focus, or I'll hang up on you. We need to get this done as soon as we can, so forge the signature I just sent you. Rather than get the money, which we don't have right now, we will be able to get the bank to put the money up to the courts for the time being, and then we owe the bank over an extension. It's got a bit of a sting in the interest, but given that your team is about to collapse, no bank is going to want to touch you otherwise. We can worry about paying that back later, once I've touched bases with Kaguya, but this means they can't try to liquidate the company."

Suzaku paused to hear all of this, before he shouted across the room beyond Lelouch's comprehension to other Rosenberg workers, likely to try and get some help with this administrative task. There was some shuffling and a lack of audial quality, however the thrust of what was unfolding was clear, as the Rosenberg factory workers filled in the company details and identity of the creditor to be satisfied.

After allowing Lelouch let Suzaku finish this task, he reiterated "Have a solicitor look over it before filing it, but you have to do it before two o'clock, or else it won't make it in time for the deadline, the same time tomorrow. You do have a solicitor, right?"

The Japanese champion could only reply with a droning silence as he audibly realised he did not. Swearing, Lelouch continued "Alright, never mind, I'll pass you on a number for mine. Her name's Victoria, pay attention to what she has to say particularly to the filing process. You can get that done once I hang up. Now, the second file. You got it?"

Suzaku paused, as Lelouch almost heard the penny drop in Suzaku's voice, as he cautiously, yet aggressively asked "Yeah, I see it, what is this?"

Sighing, Lelouch explained "It's a petition to place the Rosenberg team into administration, arresting its activities until its debts are settled. You are going to sue Rosenberg to place them into this state of inactivity, and that sheet of paper in front of you is how you are going to do it."

"Is this a joke to you?" Suzaku shot back, as he heard Lelouch's description. "Put my own team into administration? Sue them while they're on the doors of going bust? Did Kallen knock you on the head harder than we thought? What kind of advice is that, to tell me to institute bankruptcy proceedings against the company you want me to save?"

Allowing Suzaku to finish his rant, Lelouch finally spoke to reply "No, we're not liquidating the team. We're saving it from liquidation. If we did that, there would be no obligation to keep the assets in one piece or any duty to keep the staff employed. Administration gives us a year to come up with a financial package to restore the debts and keeps the whole firm in one piece. Given that they owe you a significant sum of money, you have standing as a creditor to call for the firm to be placed by the courts into a state where it can be saved from the outside without someone being able to swoop in and pick the thing apart for scraps."

Suzaku paused as he put the pieces together. Clearly, Lelouch was quite persuasive, but Suzaku was not slow, and noted "I assume you have a buyer?"

"Not yet, but I can put a team together. We're going to need a significant base of investors, but that's my job to put together. I still have some of my sponsors from last season who would be interested in such a venture. Listen, I've got a plane to catch, I'll be heading straight to Silverstone as soon as I touch down to touch bases with you and get a handle on the situation. File both of those petitions as soon as you can, I'll see you tonight."

Hanging up, Lelouch turned back to his siblings and smiled "Ah, haha, we're back! Let's get to Nice, we're going to England!"

* * *

 **No matter how hard you try, even if you break his face and give him brain damage, you can't put down Lelouch Lamperouge! He can't be removed from the track for love nor money, like an omnipresent phantom. Sorta like Bernie Ecclestone now that I think about it. In any case, he's found his way back in, and not a moment too soon! Please leave a review if you enjoyed this chapter, as I did; I've been looking forward to this one for months!**

 **~Eth0**


	34. OK34 - Saviour

**OK Number 34 - Saviour**

* * *

Kallen sighed as she looked silently into her phone, held just below her as she crouched into the seat with her elbows propped up on the fronts of her thighs. The screen was alight with the caller ID of Kaname Ohgi, who was quite possibly her last ally and thoroughly undeserved at that, who was helping her try and find a seat for 2019, or at least those races she would be allowed attend following her ban from the first two of the season. However, the more this procedure went on, the more it appeared as if missing the first two races would be the least of her worries, as no one wanted to touch her with a ten foot pole.

"I'm sorry Kallen." Ohgi continued, after having paused to allow the news of a lack of interest from Lancer sink in. Given their more edgy branding, they were possibly Kallen's primary hope of refuge, however that had been a false hope. She was frustrated, but could not blame Ohgi for his sterling effort. He had supported her since she had decided to take on Tohdoh, and even though he was still in the Rebellion team as a crew chief, he still stuck with her in trying to find her a new drive elsewhere. However, he didn't have much to work with in appealing to other teams.

"Goddamn it, will no one… I mean, what about Vanwall? Ernst and Enneagram? They're good, but that team can do better. They must be willing to at least talk about a seat, surely?"

Kallen only heard a sigh on the other end of the line, before Ohgi explained "Already asked them, and it's… it's not gonna happen."

"Well what exactly did they say?" Kallen asked, pressing for details to see if there was even a hope. However, Ohgi's carefully worded response drowned such optimism.

"They said that while your performance is admirable in the car they… felt that their sponsors would not appreciate being associated with you right now given the bad press, and would likely leave the team in such an event, and so they politely instructed me to look elsewhere."

"Damn." Kallen groaned. She had no right to complain, of course, but there was no escaping the frustration of having her options winnowed away with no apparent success, or even hint of success. Geely felt her reputation was at odds with the company's goals and brand identity, while Lancer was more abrupt in saying that there "was no way we would make that mistake." The family run Darlton team was satisfied with its nepotistic lineup of the owners two adopted sons, and, at least as far as Kallen knew, Rosenberg was on the verge of financial collapse, and would almost certainly not be on the grid next year.

She kicked at the chair opposite her as she tried to think over what she could do. Take a year out, a sabbatical like Tohdoh had? Maybe jump over to WEC or IMSA until the bad press died down? It was a possibility, but time out of a seat would make her old news, and she would be supplanted by the next wonderkid, and her chance would be squandered. She had to cement her place while she was here, or else she would not get the chance again.

"I really messed this up, didn't I…" she chuckled darkly, before Ohgi encouraged her to keep her hopes up, however she wasn't listening. She would not pity herself, as this situation was entirely of her own making; further, the impact on her was not as significant as Lelouch. At least she had the luxury of being able to search for a seat, to be able to walk about in frustration and live somewhat autonomously.

Lelouch's admonishment of her had run very deep, and had been a buffet, let alone just food, for thought, as she considered culpability and guilt. She had come in thinking she was entitled to forgiveness, in the hopes that his forgiveness would either heal his wounds or get her back a seat.

It was not for the fact that she was now unemployed that she was wrong, it was because of what it had done to him. She remembered his siblings, gathered around him, almost protecting his gangly form. Naoto had talked about his interaction with Nunnally during the Japanese Grand Prix, who was reportedly immensely pleasant and loving to her brother, who had shone a new light on the man for him. However her face when she had come, far from pleasant, was forced into a hostility it did not deserve. She had violated Lelouch's dignity and health, and this was why she should not have done it, and not because of how it impacted her pathetic little life.

Now if only she could communicate that idea without sounding to Lelouch like she was practised or parroting. A tall order, however she was distracted from that line of thought by a text on her phone. Put off from both her musings and her call with Ohgi, she opened up the application and read the message.

"Check Camelot, seat open now. Kewell has left. Good luck, rooting for you! ~Gino"

She looked at the text incredulously, reading and rereading its brief contents before absentmindedly asking Ohgi "Can you check what's going on at Camelot?"

"Camelot? That place is locked up tighter than Taizo's purse, but I'll see…"

The line went silent for a moment as Ohgi reached thorugh his various contacts within the teams to get a read on what was happening within them, seeing if there was a hint of an opening. Gino was not one to be duplicitous, and while he was prone to being something of a joker, this was too cruel for him. What was going on?"

Ohgi's voice returned with some surprise, as if he could barely believe what he was saying, stuttering "Something's happening at Camelot, hang on…"

Kallen's back sprang up, now bolt upright as if she was struck by lightning. She now hung on every word, as she realised Gino may well have saved her ass. Why? Hell if she knew, but she was immensely grateful, the gratitude only matched by her attentiveness.

"Kewell's gone, he's left to do Australian V8 Supercars with his sister and not renewed his contract with them. There's an open seat! They're willing to interview applicants with a Superlicense."

Kallen leapt to her feet, and almost screamed as she spoke into the phone, instructing "Oh god, get me in that room. Whatever you have to do, whatever you have to say, get me into just one meeting. I'll talk to them from there, but just get me face to face, please!"

* * *

"Oh hello there Lelouch! I heard you had a bit of a run in with a feisty young lady. You're a lucky boy, I must say. If only I'd been there. We could have made it a full S&M session!"

"You're lucky you're related to Suzaku and I need to squeeze you for money, or I would kill you myself."

Kaguya Sumeragi, heir to the Six Houses of Kyoto and notoriously mercurial menace, chuckled and replied "Well that, and with only one arm and a knock on the head you'd still get your ass beaten by me, even if I'm six inches shorter than you."

"Funny, brat." Lelouch grumbled. "Try nine inches. Lets move this along before I hop over to Japan and drop kick you. I'm calling for business, not displeasure, let alone pleasure."

Knowingly, Kaguya responded "Of course, you've plopped yourself right in the middle of this whole Rosenberg nonsense. On my dime I might add. I could get you for fraud you know."

"You can't tell me lewd jokes if I'm in prison." came the deadpan reply.

Kaguya audibly let out a depressive breath for emphasis, before dropping the point and pointing out "But yes, I noticed you using my signature to pay down the bailiff. I must say, I do love it when people use my money without my knowing. You're awfully brave to be calling me straight afterwards."

"Actually, I was going to ask you for more stuff."

Lelouch could not initially make out what Kaguya's initial response was, however it was certainly amused, and she was still laughing as she cried out "That's the Lelouch I know! Goddamn you're cheeky! Ahaha, I love it! You take a few million without asking and then when I confront you you ask for more! Wouldn't expect anything less from you."

"Is that a yes or a no?" Lelouch bluntly asked over her.

She paused, before, with some hmming and hawing, replying "It's complicated, but I can definitely rescue the team in terms of my finances if that's what you're asking. Might even make a sound investment."

"No no no no, I don't need you to do that." Lelouch responded, shaking his head furiously over the phone. "I just need to know if you know anyone who would be willing to join a working group to take over the team while it's in administration."

"Well why can't I do that?" she asked "It'd be nice to own a Formula One team. Might be able to spend more time with my cousin too."

Pausing over his words, Lelouch frustratedly tried to direct the conversation by pointing out "Look, I'm not sure if you need to do that. You can be part of the recovery package, but to take all the debts of the company on yourself…"

"Ah, I see what's happening."

Lelouch paused, as Kaguya explained what she felt was going on.

"You want me to invest in your scheme to save Rosenberg, but can't ask me to foot the entire bill as that would give me a controlling stake in the team and compromise your influence, and so you want me to help you find other investors to diffuse the investment and prevent any one investor marginalising you."

Lelouch was silent, before sighing and admitting "I hate it when you do that."

"Some things never change. Listen, where are you right now?"

"I'm in Nottinghamshire, I flew in yesterday."

"Gotcha." Kaguya continued, now sounding more confident having a better understanding of the situation. "I'll tell you what, I'm in Japan right now, but I'll fly over and crack some heads together, I should be able to put something-"

"No, look, stop." Lelouch said, now waving his phone slightly in consternation. "I know what you look like, and you know what I look like, much to my eternal frustration. There's no use or need in us meeting face to face, that's not what we need right now. Do you know any fools between York and Yokohama who wants to drop a few million on a racing team?"

"Sure, sure, I'll fax you over a few names. I can drop in a bit as well as a title sponsor, but unless you want to take a bit more debt out of the bank of Kaguya you're going to have to find one more partner."

Not ever wanting to get in debt to that particular bank more heavily than he had to, Lelouch replied "Yeah, I know, but I'm looking into it. Your sponsorship, your contacts, my personal sponsors, plus one more party should get us most of the assets in one fell swoop. I'll get back to you once I find someone. Cheers."

With that, Lelouch hung up, and with his arm now free, he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger to wash away the built up sleep in his eyes. He had not slept since calling Suzaku back in France, and it was almost twenty four hours since then. He needed sleep, but the insolvency filings required a careful eye, which required his constant attention. He sighed as he briefly looked around the quiet hotel lounge, largely empty but for his motley crew of his siblings, off a ways playing chess, and C.C. He moved to go, wanting to head to bed, however just as he moved to rise, C.C suddenly perked, and said "Did you say you were looking for a third investor?" across the room.

Somewhat out of it, Lelouch frowned slightly before asking "What do you want?", not having heard the fullness of what she said.

"I know a guy, someone who can be the third man."

Now snapped to attention at her words, Lelouch asked her to repeat them again, before asking "Who are you on about? Who the hell do you know that's a millionaire?"

"My brother, V.V." she explained. "He was Charles' business partner back in the eighties, but they had a split and he's been doing a lot of investing in China on his own. He's got a love for the sport, but Charles had banned him from the paddock."

Astonished, Lelouch replied simply "You're joking.", believing this to be too good to be true.

"Nope. Vertically challenged, and a bit of a jerk, but he's sitting on more money than god, and has been waiting to get back in the sport for three decades."

Lelouch jumped in a quite out of character motion, before cheering giddily "That's absolutely fantastic! You magnificent witch, you've solved it!"

His agent was less optimistic, cautioning "There's a hitch though."

Settling down, Lelouch looked the green haired woman in the eye and shrugged "He was banned, yeah? I don't care if he murdered someone, I don't mind, can he get us the money is the only question I have. He doesn't have to come down to the paddock to do that."

"It's more complicated than that." C.C explained, sounding exasperated. "Charles ruled that he was not allowed to affiliate with any team or have any involvement with the sport. If he heard V.V was bankrolling us, we would be blocked from participating indefinitely."

Lelouch's smile fell, as he realised what that would mean. Disappointed he asked "So what do we do? Hardly any good to us if his money is toxic. Why bring him up?"

"If you talked with Charles, you might be able to convince him to lift the ban to save the team from going under. He has an interest commercially in making sure we survive, otherwise he can't sell entertaining television, so he might listen."

Nodding, Lelouch found this idea very palatable. Clarifying, he asked "And V.V?"

"V.V has been waiting for relief since the dawn of time. If you told him you had lifted his ban, he would love you forever."

"And sponsor the team?"

"Yes, he would also sponsor the team you dork. Now get some sleep, you have a big day tomorrow."

* * *

"If you would just speak to her, I imagine she would put it very clearly, but suffice to say she would make an immense pilot for your team. I understand Kewell is hard to replace, but in terms of drivers who can bring you back into title contention, it's Kallen and the seven dwarves."

Ohgi held his breath and tappetted his foot about his dining room as the man from Camelot on the other end of the line kept him waiting with a long, drawn out pause, hmming for a time before replying with an ambiguous "I see. Remind me, what was your role in Rebellion?"

Feeling somewhat talked down to, Ohgi was firm as he spoke into the phone, explaining "I was her crew chief, I was responsible for managing her in the car. I still work in that capacity. There wasn't any member of the team who communicated with her more than me, and I can vouch for both her talent and intuition."

Ohgi was hoping to get her into the interview stage, however this operator was understandably stubborn, and probed further into Ohgi's rationale, asking "And of what interest is she, might I ask, to you? She was fired from your team, a team you are still a part of? Why are you making this call to us to lobby on your behalf given your public parting?"

Shaking his head, Ohgi sighed. It was difficult to put into words why he was putting himself through this, in the same way it was hard to explain why they had all backed Kallen over Tohdoh. It was hard to explain in the same way it was hard to explain why, at Brazil the year before last, they had all spent their entire nights up fixing Kallen's engine when they were under no obligation to do so beyond their paid hours, staying up for 36 hours between Qualifying and the Race to make sure she could beat Tohdoh and become the dominant force in the teams body politic. All the younger employees had been so desperate to get the new lease on life she offered the team, that verve that she brought by rallying them together to mount a campaign. She had ups and downs, but she had made herself the focal point of the team in a big way, and Ohgi felt obligated to communicate that.

"She's the reason we stuck around. Rebellion was growing austere, and everyone was going through the motions. She's the reason we had the fight this year. She has such a verve, such an energy. She's the reason we all pulled together. Brazil 2017, or whatever, she was what we all came for. She will take what you give her and put it in positions it has no right to be. It wasn't a coincidence that we all rallied behind her over Tohdoh. She's what we all came together for."

The man on the other end of the phone was somewhat taken aback by this emotional tract, and took some time to respond, tripping over the initial portions of his reply, but still managing to say "Of course, you do understand, that taking her on as a driver is not something she has made particularly easy for us, should we choose to proceed in that direction; she would have to prove herself to be of extreme merit to counter her detracting elements, not least her reputation."

Wanting to not sound like a sycophant, Ohgi tried to gently concede the point without letting it derail the conversation, balancing it with "Sure, no question she's not made this easy on herself but when it comes to in the car, she's the real deal, she has just insane qualities when it comes to driving the car, she just needs a little direction outside of it. With that sort of direction, you would have a multiple world champion on your hands."

"What qualities are those, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Speed, like qualifying speed." Ohgi stated plainly. "She got how many pole positions? Took pole in Brazil by how much? But its more than that. She took that car and drove it faster than our best computer estimate predicted would be possible. She just hurls the thing in and deals with the instability. She's like a cat when it comes to keeping the car balanced under load."

There was a brief silence on the line, as the man on the other end mulled over what he was hearing. After some time, and sensing he was close, Ohgi moved in to seal the deal.

"There will be days where she just wants to make you tear your hair out, no question. Brazil was one, and for sure it's frustrating. But just as readily and just as often there are days where the heavens open and she is untouchable. Absolutely off this planet, in another gear compared to everyone else, and will waltz away. On that day, she would not be matched by anyone, and on that day you will wish she was driving your car. She's got… it, for lack of a better word. You worked with Cornelia, you know it when you see it. The right stuff, that extra ten percent, the little bit beyond that makes the difference between a Champion and a race winner, whatever you want to call it. Style, if you want. Cornelia had it in abundance, Tohdoh had it, and you bet Suzaku has it. Gino will not beat Suzaku over a season, and Kewell wasn't going to. Kallen just might, and there's no other driver that you can say that for right now."

That was all he had. Ohgi could only now sit and wait for a response, hoping he had done enough to save his friends career. The silence was longer now, forcing him to sit and wait for almost a minute in anticipation, before he finally got the golden response.

"Alright, she can come in tomorrow for an interview."

* * *

 **Ohgi's such a great lad. So is Gino for that matter. But there still remains challenges; will Lelouch convince Charles to allow V.V to pay him ungodly sums of money? Will Kallen ace the interview? Will Suzaku be driving next year? All this and more, in the next chapter! Please be sure to leave a review, I wouldn't be on the streak I am without your fantastic encouragement. Cheers.**

 **~Eth0**


	35. OK35 - Confessions

**OK Number 35 - Confessions**

* * *

With the meeting to take place the day after Ohgi called Kallen back with the excellent news, she had little time to prepare. Having not been able to contact Naoto or get back into her old flat, she had been spending her time in a small studio apartment on the outskirts of Osaka, with very little in the way of organisation, cleaning, or indeed formal clothing. To fly to Britain and select apparel that would not suggest 'last minute panic' was an exercise in timing and haste, eventually forcing her to leave Japan on the early flight and try to combat the inevitable jet lag by sleeping once she arrived. This gave her three hours to clean herself, get new clothes, and get a taxi out to the Camelot head offices in the North Circular of London, arriving through the cities traffic with moments to spare.

After being hushed up an elevator towards the corporate offices, Kallen had a brief moment to breathe after having been rushing about for twelve hours, only for her to realise she couldn't take it. Her whole career depended on the next twenty minutes, and try as she might to relax herself and catch her breath after so long on the go, her chest remained tight and constricted, and so as she walked into the lions den, she carried the stresses and tensions of the last few hours in the centre of her back. Still, she carried it with a stubborn resilience, and held her breath as she entered the meeting room.

Facing her examiners, she observed several immediately. The heads of the firm and racing division, as well as the chief engineer were all present, as well as, sat off to one side, Gino Weinberg in jeans and a frayed shirt, wearing a quiet, knowing smirk. Avoiding a nod in his direction, she instead stood at the door politely with a bad combination of anxiety and suspicious uncertainty.

"Please, sit down."

The instruction came down from the chief engineer, who spoke with a vertical authority that compelled her to sit. She did not dare disobey or deviate from the orders of that voice, as it remained her final lifeline. Sitting down into the plastic seat, placed in a sea of carpet. She felt horribly exposed as she was examined from all angles in an open room, sat at the lone seat in the centre. However, this would be what she had to deal with.

"I will be brief." the manager of the racing division stated bluntly. "One of our two lead drivers has taken it upon himself to leave us at the eleventh hour to sod off back to Australia with his sister Marika to fart about in stock cars, without the common decency of letting us know so we can pick a driver at our leisure. So, we're going through the offers, which includes you, as well as some stiff competition."

"Who else has applied?" Kallen asked, curious as to who the competition was.

"Li Xingke is the leading candidate."

Blinking, Kallen looked aside for a moment, fearing she was stating the obvious before commenting "I'm quicker than Xingke."

"Xingke has quite a bit less baggage." the racing manager explained, trying visibly to phrase the question kindly. He paused at the end to find the better phrasing, before the chief engineer interrupted and more plainly explained that "The sponsors find him a bit him more palatable."

Kallen paused, biting her tongue. Her initial response would have been to bite at that, sardonically pointing out that they were hiring a driver, and not a poster prop, however she was wary of this instinct, and suppressed it. Instead, she nodded, and with a downward gaze replied "I understand that. That is something I need to address, unquestionably, but I understand if that is the bigger factor. However, I feel that not only can I make up for that, but I can beat out Xingke on the track."

Her standoffishness was not put on, as she acknowledged their concerns. That she might face challenges in an interview over her conduct was not only predictable, but due. She had ruined Lelouch's life, and to face some awkward questioning was a small price to pay. As such, it would have been nothing short of callous to not at least recognise it in both form and affect; otherwise, she would not deserve the time of day.

She could not address what she had done if she did not acknowledge it, and she very much wanted to address it. For it to be a semi-permanent presence lingering about her brow, an elephant in the room, without her being able to begin the process of shaking it was the worst possibility.

All she needed to know was what to do.

This earnesty appeared to go over well, as the racing manager commented "Of course, if it were a done deal we would not have invited you. We remain interested in what you can bring to the team if you are able to clear our doubts."

She nodded, as she realised she was shivering. The room was certainly cold, but she also knew that there was a reckoning in the imminent future. If she was able to clear their doubts, that was the modal possibility. Her past would be addressed in full, the elephant would be shot. In one sense, there was a trepidation in the approach to such a task, a fear of the significance of what would have to be trekked through, however in another sense it was relieving that it would all be brought to a head in one setting. It appeared they disliked beating around the bush as much as she did.

In spite of this, it appeared they were content to leave a pin in that topic for a moment, as the chief engineer then asked "So, you say you've got more skill than Xingke on track. What can you bring us on track that he can't?"

"A championship."

Where earlier in her career she might have said that with a half-grin and a cocky tone, she was more severe in her confidence on this occasion. She spoke matter-of-factly, looking up through a Kubrick lens at her interviewers, deadly serious.

So serious in fact, that the racing manager, somewhat taken aback by her certainty, replied "Well that was certainly definitive. Would you care to elaborate?"

Kallen sighed and scratched her hair, before trying to explain her rationale, beginning "With regards to Xingke, or any other driver you want to hire there is a benchmark. You want to win the World Championship, and that means beating Suzaku Kururugi. If your driver cannot beat Kururugi, then this team will not return to titles."

"We don't know if his team is going to make it to the grid." replied one of the corporate heads dismissively, clearly sceptical as to the threat the reigning champion posed.

"If Suzaku has anything to do with it, he'll drag the car to the grid with his teeth." Kallen replied, shaking her head in frustration. "He's tenacious, almost a freak of nature, and even if Rosenberg is no more, he will be snapped up by another team, and he will challenge for wins. He brought a team on the brink of bankruptcy to a title. He'll be back, and if you want to beat him you will need someone who can take him on head to head. Li Xingke is a good driver, but he will never beat Kururugi, and hence you will never win a championship with him so long as Suzaku is within a whiff of a race seat. I can."

Kallen's thesis was firm and persuasive, as she developed an image of Suzaku's implacable nature, observing the interviewers take it in and mull over it. Her points appeared to hit home as they compared her description of Suzaku to what they had seen over the season, scoring podiums consistently and keeping his slower car in the lead of the championship when it mattered to be able to pull through. Indeed, she was so convincing that another corporate character, now appearing quite dismal, asked out of what could almost be described as fear, "Are you sure you can take him on over a season? You've already tried…"

Once again, Kallen drew a contrast between what she might have otherwise said and what she ought to say now. Indeed, her default response may have been to chuckle and reply with something like "I can beat him, trust me."

However, she had worn out what trust she was owed. She would have to earn it back, and so would not be presumptuous in how she addressed them.

"I believe I can. I believe I have the speed, and can match him over a season. He works incredibly hard, but I'd be willing to work every bit as hard to take back the title. Anything he does, I would be willing to do to match him. Whether it's setup work, fitness, or sponsor work, I will match his endeavour, and with a greater natural speed I can outpace him."

"Sounds like you've got it in for him." Gino chuckled, speaking for the first time. Kallen felt her chest fall as she feared Gino's joke might put the interviewers off, however they instead laughed at his joke, before the chief engineer wagged his finger at Gino and cautioned him humourously, however he then turned back and then observed "Certainly, your speed is not in doubt, and if you can follow through on those commitments your capacity to deliver on track then we may well be in a good position. However, we must return to the other element, unfortunate though it may be."

Kallen silently gulped as she anticipated what would follow. She steeled herself for the trial she would not get publicly, not ready but willing.

"Why did you do what you did?"

Even with all her anticipation, hearing the words said aloud still brought about a flinch, her head tilting slightly as she absorbed the question. How did one answer that? She had thought about it for days since meeting Lelouch and still hadn't come up with a satisfying answer. In one sense, that was obvious; there was never going to be a satisfying explanation. Indeed, perhaps it was better that way. That there might be a satisfying rationale for grievous bodily harm in this context was not something that sat well with Kallen. It was not going to ever be justifiable, or, by extension, explainable in a way that did not leave one with the inevitable conclusion that Kallen was an individual with a horrible temper and poor judgement.

Which, as far as Kallen could make out, was a good thing. Not for her, and not in this room as she was trying to convince these people to hire her, but in herself. There was a finality to that conclusion that invited no prospect of prolonged introspection.

However, introspection was not optional here, as she had to try and explain, for lack of a better phrase, what happened.

"I don't want to… frame this as if it was in any way justified. I was just so… livid, so outraged and furious, and so on, I just… I had to get him and show him that… no, he hadn't done anything that deserved it, of course, but I felt he had hit me on purpose, and was just so beside myself. I actually felt like I was going to explode."

She could conjure the scene readily, though its context had dramatically changed. She felt possessed by such a righteous fury, unstoppable and untouchable. Lelouch had, in her eyes, committed a cardinal sin in motorsports and had ruined her championship in one fell swoop, and she was going to show him… show him something. She would sort him out, set him right, show him there were consequences. However, as she imagined herself back in that spit of grass and gravel in the heart of Sao Paulo, it was not any passionate rage that possessed her.

It was horror, and fear. She stood above the bruised body of Lelouch, head more black and red than white, as he lay unconsciously in the off track, bleeding into the grass. As she recalled his form in full resolution, she could only feel a dread at whatever could cause this, only for her to recall it was her. That Kallen who had done it scared her, causing more than a little dissonance as she tried to reconcile that with how she viewed herself. She could, it proved, get so angry that she would do that, which was as far from a comforting thought as one could get.

She had no right to do it, and its impacts, for Lelouch, would continue to unfold until he died, and so in that sense it was not even fair to say it was ever going to be over and done, in the past, or any other similarly comforting phrase. It was as bad as she could conceive, and had no will to attempt to find any excuse for herself. Hopefully the others in the room would appreciate the honesty at the very least.

"There isn't anything I can say that would explain it adequately. I'm horrified even thinking about it, that I would have that in me, and I deserve whatever comes to me as a consequence. Obviously, I hope I can work with you, but I understand if it's too much. I want to get better, more than anything else. I want to improve, to get as far away from that Kallen as I can."

Nodding, the group moved to scribbling on unseen notepads, before the racing manager asked "Have you been to see him in hospital?"

She nodded, remembering the incident well. Swallowing, she described the event slowly, setting the scene with care.

"We were both still in Brazil, I had been in my hotel room for a while and… I don't want to say that what I had done dawned on me, because that minimises what I did but… it's more fair to say the impact did. Partly to Lelouch, but also, I must admit, to myself. I had been fired, my brother had thrown me out and I was quickly growing quite scared, for myself. I went to Lelouch in a foolish attempt to try and explain myself and try to reach some kind of rushed reconciliation. He turned me away, and was right to. I was concerned for myself at the time, hoping that somehow he would stop what was happening. It was probably too early, and all of what had happened had not properly sunk in. I haven't seen him since."

"What do you plan to do about it going forward?"

Kallen shook slightly, before trying to parse an answer together "Well, it's on two fronts. I need to change, and I need to try and… god, I'll never be able to make it up to him but… find some way to reconcile with Lelouch. For the first one, that will require me to do quite a bit more navel gazing, perhaps try to develop good habits to let out some of the heat, and long term try and build up a better attitude and approach, and hopefully cut whatever connections I have those instincts. For Lelouch… it'll never be okay, but I hope if I can see him again, I hope I can convince him I've changed."

"This won't undo what you did or make it okay."

"I wouldn't expect it to. It was horrid, and no amount of recourse will retroactively excuse it. Otherwise his injuries would be horribly cheapened. If it could… wouldn't that be a world to dream of. But I'd hope I can at least make sure it'll never happen again. I'm not owed his forgiveness, but I hope I can earn it."

She ran short of breath towards the end of this explanation a she arrived at the conclusion almost as she said it. It was pure stream of consciousness, and it was only by the grace of God that it was in any way coherent, and hopefully, in some way persuasive. Indeed, the men all busied to their pens with slight nods, which caused Kallen to hope even as her stomach steeled. After a moment, they all took a look at one another before the racing director said "Gino will escort you out while we discuss our thoughts."

She shakily nodded, as the blonde Briton stood up and walked towards the door behind Kallen, who followed him out into the carpeted hallway. Both were silent until they shut the door behind them and were finally alone, at which point Kallen unleashed a restrained breath and hurriedly whispered her many questions across the enclosed space.

"Why did you text me? Thank you so much, you may have saved my bacon. God, did I do okay? Did you have anything to do with this? What do you want?"

Gino began to chuckle, before catching it in its infancy. A serious house on serious earth this was, and given both the gravity of the situation for Kallen, and for the team in the abstract, he realised it might not be appropriate to make light of stress.

"Alright, alright." he explained. "Yes, I texted you. I knew you were looking for a seat, and as soon as I heard Kewell has returning to the Outback from whence he came, I figured that you would want to know about it. Get in early as it were. I didn't make him leave if that's what you're asking, he's just that desperate to get sunburn it seems."

Kallen shook her head, and replied "Yeah, I get that but... why? Why did you think I deserved that seat?"

It was Gino's turn to engage in the muddled head movements, tilting side to side before he settled into a slight nod, as if he was trying to find the words. Eventually, he succeeded, and said "I've seen the real you. I was certainly put off by Brazil, but I've also seen Canada, and Indianapolis. No one else has, and I know that that is who you really are. No one else was able to speak for those moments, so I thought it was only fair I try and balance it out a bit. I put in a good word for you, reassured them that you've got the potential to move past this mess."

"God I hope so. Cheers…"

Nodding, they were silent again as they waited for the verdict of the managers in the room, who took ten minutes to invite them back inside. Gino returned to the front, while Kallen sat back in the centre as the chief engineer, sat directly in front of Kallen, spoke with gravity.

"This seat is highly desirable. As well as competition from current drivers, it also was up for grabs to our young driver Anya Alstreim, who has been with the firm as a junior partner for three years."

Catching hint of the use of the past tense, Kallen's eyes widened and she leaned forward. Noticing this, the engineer looked down for a moment, before qualifying this statement.

"Of course, your application was not without resistance. You had to assuge our concerns as to your conduct and more importantly your thoughts and feelings as to the matter. Fortunately, providing for several inhibiting factors to be addressed, we feel you have met these and will prove a good fit for our firm. However, there are conditions. Firstly, you will have to meet regularly with our in house psychotherapist."

Nodding, Kallen listened attentively as she awaited the second condition, unsure as to what it could be.

"The second element must be completed by you before we will sign any contract. We will take you onboard for all the races you are permitted to do, and pay your legal fees, if and when they arise, for the incident at Interlagos if, and only if, you can convince Lelouch Lamperouge to forgive you publically. Once we see that, we will prepare a contract for you."

Kallen's heart fell into her stomach as she heard this. There was an impending sense of doom that washed over her as she considered what possible circumstances could lead to Lelouch ever forgiving her publicly, in an open press conference or forum? Inconceivable.

Not for the first time, Kallen had to find a way to make the impossible happen.

* * *

 **How will Kallen get out of this one? It would appear that nothing could get to Lelouch to do something so demeaning so soon after the incident, but Kallen is not the only party at work in this environment. There are other interests in the paddock that may be invested in Kallen and Lelouch, and ultimately the choice on how to proceed may not be theirs. Please leave a review, and I'll see you again soon.**

 **~Eth0**


	36. OK36 - Reckoning

**OK Number 36 - Reckoning**

* * *

Not for the first time, Lelouch slapped his disobedient right arm, hanging limp as it dragged at the table while he pulled away to encourage it to fall by his side. The now redundant appendage eventually was pulled away from its stuck position, allowing Lelouch to briefly evaluate his appearance.

Black tie and a stern appearance gave Lelouch a reflective confidence, but his broken nose, flopping arm, and residual face bruises took away just as his own efforts gave, and one could not afford to show any weakness when approaching Charles Zi Britannia, patriarch of the entire sport and an intimidating mountain of a man. Lelouch had met him in a private setting only twice, and was not eager to repeat the experience. He would hold all the power in negotiations, and there was nothing that could amend that, and so you were inherently at his mercy, an idea Lelouch could not bear. Lacking power in negotiations was akin to prison to him; your actions and initiative were dictated by the opposing party, and Charles was a stern warden.

As the saying went, it was Charles' world, they all just drove in it.

However, Lelouch now had to go to see him, and force himself into a position of indebtedness. It was about as unpleasant a meeting as he could imagine, short of a second round in the ring with Kallen, though he didn't even dare contemplate such a thing, lest he find himself tunnelling out or starting to sweat in anxiety.

Instead, he moved to his left towards the looming door, knocking with his left hand before being told, not invited, to enter by a booming voice from the inside. Moving on this, Lelouch pulled the door open towards him before moving aside to step through, craning about to enter the room proper.

Charles, sudden and large, was the first thing Lelouch saw, stood right at the doorframe as Lelouch looked inside. It was almost as if he had appeared out of nowhere in front of him, such was the illusion created by the effect. Lelouch felt quite put off by the sudden nature of his appearance, which he doubted was accidental; Charles hoped to unsettle, to unnerve, to gain any advantage he could. Not that he needed to, but the CEO of the sport was not one to leave any stone unturned.

Not to be visibly deterred, Lelouch hid his surprise with a nod, as if expecting the move, however he had no proper response when Charles smiled in turn and extended his right arm to its full length, offering it in a handshake.

Lelouch knew Charles knew that Lelouch no longer had use of his right arm, and so, as he was forced to extend his left and force Charles to change his hands, he acknowledged it was not accidental. Charles had forced Lelouch to inconvenience Charles by making him switch hands due to his injury, placing Lelouch in a position of social weakness. The Frenchman's blood boiled as Charles shook his hand. The mind games were at once frustratingly trivial and hatefully infuriating to lose, as it seemed as if Charles had had to accommodate him, and thus would have less obligation to accommodate him again. It was ridiculous pop psychology, but Charles swore by it, and as they released their handshake Lelouch couldn't help but feel as if he had lost in something more material than just the wild imaginings of a fat lunatic.

In any case, Lelouch tried to put it out of his mind as he followed Charles through the room towards his desk. It was darkly lit, with brown and red carpentry taking centre stage, almost like an ancient manor or a theatre. Lelouch was half expecting to be served popcorn.

However, as he approached the centre of the room he was told to stop where he stood by Charles, whose back was turned towards the desk. He obeyed, halting in the middle of the carpet as the other man scoured through his desk in front of him. Charles kept him standing awkwardly for some time, before he finally pulled out a set of sheets and dropped them on the desk.

Lelouch then moved forward to sit at the seat in front of the desk, however he was stopped by a raised hand, Charles stopping him from approaching.

"Stay stood in the centre where I can see you."

Lelouch was silent for a moment, before nodding and stepping back, though with hidden gritted teeth. Satisfied, Charles stood at his desk, able to take in Lelouch's entire form from a distance before beginning with "So, you have come with a request."

Irritated by the framing of the issue, Lelouch tried to press back by saying "I intend to return the Rosenberg team to the grid, and make sure that the front of the field has a competitive team. You have an interest in creating a competitive grid, and I have done the leg work for you. I seek only permission, not action."

"Yes, I've heard." Charles replied. "You've been a busy little bee, however you are mistaken if you believe I owe you anything. I know of several bodies corporate who are interested in buying out the Rosenberg assets, and can turn to them at any time without having to bother myself with you."

Charles was not wrong; while Schneizel had gotten cold feet, Lelouch was not alone in competing to take over Rosenberg. Lelouch did not believe that Charles would give the bid to someone coming in from the outside, however there was no way the towering man would not use this fact to gain some advantage. However, Lelouch was ready to counter this.

"In one day and out the other, they will be as committed to the sport as Schneizel." Lelouch responded. "This teams only hope is someone who knows the sport and is able to navigate its finances."

"You say you can navigate finances, but you're at my door asking for money."

"No, I'm asking permission to tap into a prohibited source." Lelouch countered.

Charles grimaced, shaking his head, before replying simply with "So I've heard."

"What did V.V. do to you?"

"We were partners for years, as close as brothers." Charles explained. "He was the technical director of what was then Akasha Racing and I was the manager. At the end of the 1980 season I discovered that he had systematically stolen thousands of pages of technical details, documents, and blueprints from no less than three other teams to incorporate into the design process. I fired him immediately and was forced to concede the championship, and made sure once I was in office to punish him. Of course, you would have no issue working with someone like that, but I could not tolerate such a betrayal of my trust in his integrity, as he went behind my back and placed the entire team at risk. Why you would..."

The tall businessman, not appearing quite finished, nonetheless stopped talking for a moment as he seemed to realise something. After contemplating for several moments, he moved to approach Lelouch, walking up to the exposed figure before beginning to circle about him and inspecting him from all angles while Lelouch stayed still. He felt like a piece of meat, especially as Charles began to poke at his right arm.

"It's a shame about your body." he commented, as it failed to twitch or even responded beyond a sway, akin to a pendulum. Finishing his lap of the Frenchman, he moved back towards his desk, commenting as he walked away "It must have hurt considerably."

Uncertain where this was going, Lelouch replied honestly by saying "Very much so. It still does to quite a degree."

"And you must be quite angry with Kallen over the incident."

Frowning at this, not appreciating the feeling of uncertainty as to the direction of the conversation, replied simply with "Quite so."

Charles looked grave, with an uncharacteristic sincerity as he sat at the lip of his desk, facing Lelouch for the first time while sat. He looked uncharacteristically conciliatory, as if finding what he was about to say distasteful.

"The thing is, it's a good story. An injured driver comes back to finish what he started as a team director? One that was seen as conniving and political to boot? I can sell that to television networks with ease. It's a classic story."

Lelouch maintained his composure, but internally smiled as he realised that Charles was open to the idea of a Lamperouge-operated Rosenberg, feeling as if he was able to grasp success.

"The reason I ask about your injuries…" Charles began, shifting the mood towards something more pontifical before stopping and starting again. "I have a dilemma. A dilemma you can solve. Given that you are in a position of needing my help, I feel it is only fair that you do something for me."

Lelouch nodded. This was more what he expected from Charles. Part exchange was his primary modus operandi, even if it was generally not favoured towards the not-Charles party. Even so, this familiarity was comforting to Lelouch, as he had some expertise in this area himself.

"I am not, however, in any way inclined towards lifting the bar on V.V." Charles continued. "I find the very idea repulsive. That being said, I am not above an equitable settlement. I would ask of you something I do not doubt you will find repulsive."

Apprehensive, Lelouch's eyes widened, as Charles finished his proposal.

"I would like you to, tomorrow, call a press conference and publicly forgive Kallen Kōzuki for her assault at Interlagos. Then, I will remove the ban on V.V."

Lelouch baulked, his neutral expression finally breaking as his mouth fell open and facial muscles releasing. His eyes shot open wide in shock, and his breath escaped him in a silent gasp. Stuttering, he could only manage to ask "What?"

"You will forgive Kallen Kōzuki in public tomorrow at a-"

"I heard what you said." Lelouch responded, too outraged to bother with his normal concerns of interrupting the hand that fed him, continuing "But… what? Why? What do you need me to do that for?"

"As I said, I have a dilemma that you can solve." Charles explained, calmly laying out his thoughts while ignoring Lelouch's visible shock. "This sport needs to make money just as much as any of the individual teams. While you get money from sponsors for teams, the sport at large also gets overarching sponsors and television deals that allow us to broadcast the sport and keep it going. This depends on audience interest, which in turn depends on good television. Just as much as we need good racing, we need good storylines and characters. You returning as a manager is a good example of that."

"What does this have to do with Kallen?"

"Did you attend last years Japanese Grand Prix?"

Lelouch nodded, not following Charles' line of logic.

"Kallen Kozuki is at present one of our most identifiable drivers. At her home Grand Prix there was a positive frenzy, and internationally she was very marketable given her personality, dramatic driving style, and rivalry with Suzaku. However, she is currently looking for a drive, and is facing difficulty."

Lelouch nodded, commenting "Rightly so.", struggling to find any sympathy.

Charles frowned at his aside, not approving, before continuing "I have spoken to the team directors and have tried to convince them to at least consider her. Many did not, however at present she is a candidate for the Camelot team. The only condition they provided, which I could not shake, was that she would have to make you apologise in public."

Lelouch imperceptibly shook his head as he saw where this was going. He would allow Kallen back into the sport by his actions, actively endorsing her and singlehandedly facilitating her drive. His face, he knew, was a horrified one, but he could not avoid it. It was nightmarish to consider.

"I am not one to leave things to chance, and so am eager to close the loop. Rather than risk you making your own choice and jeopardising a potential saleable plot line, I would prefer to secure an arrangement internally."

"I won't do it."

Lelouch spoke the words on an instinct, uttering them straight out of the depths of his subconscious, barely aware of his lips moving or throat contracting, however, he stood by it even as Charles, not used to being defied, shifted into an angered posture, adopting a furious expression, and Lelouch continued.

"I will not go out there and do that. Can you imagine how humiliating that would be? I have dignity!"

"No you don't."

Lelouch stood back, again shocked as Charles, speaking in the purest deadpan, rejected Lelouch's thesis.

"You have no dignity. You never did. You have consistently traded any dignity you earn for prizes, and are fundamentally a worm. What was dignified in your backroom deals with Taizo Kirihara? Or Mildred and Reuben Ashford? What was dignified in trying to crash out another driver to finish higher in the championship? You have hidden behind what happened to you immediately afterwards, but do not pretend you are anything other than a snakelike chameleon. Trust me, it takes one to know one. Acting as if, suddenly, you have grown a spine where one never existed before is disingenuous."

Lelouch's blood boiled, as he roared back "How dare you! I will not allow my siblings to see me-"

Ignoring Lelouch, Charles spoke over him, forcing the Frenchman to concede as he bellowed "Are you seriously telling me you are going to let the Rosenberg staff become unemployed, or go into the hands of an outsider, just because of your pride? It never concerned you when you were protecting your family. Don't try to lie to yourself. Your whole career has consisted a series of lies, masks, and deals. To take a stand and proclaim your outrage at degrading yourself is absurd, particularly after you, in 2016, paraded around a football field naked at the behest of Mildred Ashford in Hungary."

By this point, the enormous Charles was almost upon Lelouch, as the sticklike man was forced back, beginning to feel a sense of physical fear at being shouted down to by the dominating presence. Charles pointed above Lelouch towards the door, and continued.

"If you want to bring V.V into the fold and save Rosenberg, this is what you must do. Until you do, we have no further business. Get out. If I know you, you'll be hosting the press conference within the week."

* * *

"What did you say to Lelouch ~ Naoto"

Kallen did not understand what the text meant, and sat puzzled for five minutes attempting to decipher its meaning. It was the first contact she had had from her brother in weeks, and seemed wholly put of the blue until she received a second text, this time from Gino.

"Welcome to the team! I knew you could do it!"

She frowned. Tying Lelouch in with Gino's welcoming of her to the team, she could guess that he had said something that related to her, however she had no idea what it was until she turned on the television and switched to the news, which was showing Lelouch standing at a podium.

In a word, he looked horrible. He looked like he had not slept in days, his eyes were red, and he was visibly agitated. Nonetheless, he was hosting a press conference despite his condition, and Kallen paid close attention to what he was saying.

"… and as such, given some… reflection I've done, I've seen that I did quite a bit to aggravate the situation, and hope that, just as Kallen has done work to reconcile with me, I can try to reconcile with her, and that we can reform a friendship with this incident as water under the bridge. This begins with forgiveness, and as such, given her sincerity, I forgive Kallen for what she did. I have informed her of this privately, however I wanted to share that there is absolutely no animosity between us. I hope she can get a seat for next year, as she is a top tier talent. Trust me, I raced against her."

Kallen shook her head. He hadn't contacted her once, and given their last meeting there had been no indication he was in any way taken towards forgiving her. He was right not to. She could only wonder what had made him do this. It was absolutely surreal to watch. It could hardly be of his own volition; he would never allow it, and given his state, it was doubtless that there were other forces at work.

Why on earth was he doing that? For her benefit? Doubtful. How did Lelouch stand to gain?

* * *

 **Charles is so diabolically cruel in canon that it's hard to transpose that onto this setting without it being buffoonish and unrealistic, so I hope I was able to turn up the abusive- both physically and in terms of power- elements without being cartoonish. As we're all aware, individuals at the heads organisations are plenty capable of using their position towards extremely unscrupulous ends, however I'll allow you to read as much or as little as you desire.**

 **Returning to Lelouch, he's demonstrated both in this universe and canon he's plenty willing, indeed sometimes overeager, to become a sacrificial lamb, and trying to reconcile that self-sacrificial paternalism with his trauma from Kallen was great fun, perhaps some of the most interesting things I've tried to write about in this fic from a character perspective.**

 **Please be sure to tell me what you think! Excited that Kallen has a seat? Would you have made the same decision as Lelouch? Let me know!**

 **~Eth0**


	37. OK37 - Breaking Ground

**OK Number 37 - Breaking Ground**

* * *

Kallen knocked on the wooden door with trepidation, rapping her knuckles off the surface with a relative glancing impact, as if she didn't want her knock to be heard or acknowledged at all, and that she could shrug and return to her studio apartment without having to go through what was scheduled for the next hour and a half.

However, this was not the case, and soon after, the door handle began to turn, racketing with hollow clangs before the door shook in its hinges. The shaking then ceased, before a pause and then a muffled gasp from the other side of the door.

"Ah, bugger! The slide lock's still in! Sorry, one second!"

Kallen grimaced. For someone who was meant to help her clear her head, this psychotherapist was already causing her anxiety.

After taking a moment to slide the bolt away, the voice was given a face as the door swang away almost instantaneously, with Kallen feeling the air rush past her hair to accommodate the swinging entryway. As the dust settled, Kallen took in the presence before her; a pink haired woman, stood several inches below Kallen and grinning as broadly as anyone she had ever seen. After a moment, the pink bundle of visible energy continued "Kallen Kōzuki, I presume?"

Somewhat put off by her boundless enthusiasm, Kallen gingerly nodded, extending her hand lamely, with the therapist, who upon further inspection struck her as surely not being much older than Kallen herself, met the offer of a handshake with great vigor.

"Lovely to meet you. My name's Euphemia McGlynn! Hopefully we'll get on, or else this will be a pretty damn awkward few months we'll spend stuck in a room together for three hours a week, eh?"

Kallen was struck by Euphemia's balancing of tooth rotting sweetness and brutal honesty, as she grinned while informing her charge of the possibility of long-term misery. However, in light of this news, Kallen was eager to make their time together as painless as she could, and so she nodded a second time to acknowledge her warning.

Euphemia somehow managed to beam with an even wider smile, before continuing "Fantastic. Please, do come inside!"

She followed the woman inside the annexe, before being surprised by the state of the place. For her pristine appearance, her office was anything but, with nick knacks and miscellaneous clutter occupying almost every square inch, it really seemed as if peace and mental clarity would not be easily engendered, with distracting junk littered all across the floor surface. The room was so poorly organised and filled to the brim with every piece and parcel of loot that had ever scattered the lands various jumble sales that it was practically avant garde.

Euphemia seemed aware of the state of the room, chuckling before turning back to Kallen apologetically, bending over slightly and trying to explain, beginning "It's erm… it's still in need of some attention in terms of the organisation, but sure look now… take a seat wherever you like. Whatever makes you nice 'n comfy."

Kallen moved towards the couch, lined in deep red corduroy, before she paused as she caught glimpse of a picture frame sat in the wedge of the two person seat. Caught in the wooden frame was Euphemia, smiling as was expected while hugging former driver Cornelia after she had won her first championship with the Camelot team Kallen now found herself in. Perhaps most bizarrely, Cornelia did not appear visibly enraged by the display affection as she normally would, particularly given that it was going to be immortalised in photograph. Indeed, the stalwart Briton almost seemed to herself be… smiling…

In fact… McGlynn…

"Are you… Cornelia's sister?"

Kallen turned just to catch Euphemia nodding and replying "Aye!" "Just because she's upped sticks doesn't mean that a girl doesn't have to make a living for herself though!"

Appreciating this, Kallen silently sat as Euphemia chuckled, seeming to pause to consider her sister, before adding "She's off setting land speed records, as one does really. She always looked up to Donald Campbell, and she had been hankering after the thousand mile an hour barrier for a few years now."

"That's pretty cool." Kallen admitted. It was interesting that the sister of a former driver who had won titles with the team was in such a high position at such a young age, however given Naoto's sterling work in forging a brand, there was an argument that she was making such presumptuous considerations from something of a glass house.

As such, she decided to depart from the issue and, after allowing Euphemia to lounge on the couch opposite, she decided to make hay and ask "So… what is the plan? You're in charge, what uh… what do I need to hear?"

Kallen was more than a little eager to resolve her anger issues, and was interested to hear what Euphemia would say to try and make a crack at resolving them, which led to quite a bit of frustration when the pink haired woman shrugged and replied "I dunno."

Kallen baulked, her eyes bulging slightly as she leaned forward in disbelief, only just able to reply with a burbling "W.. wut?"

"Well, first of all, strictly speaking all I _need_ to do is write up a report that says you're fit to race, but as if I'm going to make things that easy." Euphemia chuckled. "But in all seriousness, I'm not here to instruct you. I'm more interested in… facilitating. I can steer a bit, but you're in control of the throttle. This will be a journey you make, with me poking you with a stick every few hours when you stop making progress."

Kallen frowned sceptically, before Euphemia laughed and continued "C'mon, it'll be fun! Now, let's get to know one another."

The Japanese driver rolled her eyes, before commenting "This is gonna be good."

"Why do you say that?"

Kallen sighed, before admitting "I don't doubt you've already got a firm impression of me. Most people do."

"Well, I'm not most people." Euphemia admitted. "I haven't seen the video, and I don't plan to. I want to know the real you, not the one that flared up at a particular point in your life."

"I'm nothing if not what I do. I can't escape it."

Euphemia leaned her head back, digesting this point, before pointing up her finger and replying "True, but one action isn't the sum of your person. I lost my keys this morning, but that isn't the definition of everything about me."

"It's not the same." Kallen huffed, exasperated as it seemed Euphemia was missing the point. "It was horrid, it's not the same as losing my keys. It's so hideous, but I did it. That surely gives some insight, no? In getting to know who I am?"

"Yeah, you did it, that's for sure a piece of data. But you feel bad about it. That's also data."

Kallen snorted, and replied "Fat lot of good it does Lelouch, that I regret it after the fact."

"I'm not interested in Lelouch right now, he's not the person I'm trying to help out." Euphemia explained. "It's better that than you having stuck to your guns and going full 'I did nothing wrong', which is not unheard of."

"Bully for me." Kallen replied snarkily. "Does it make it okay to do anything if I regret it later?"

"Stop talking nonsense." Euphemia replied, not quite snapping but clearly not amused. "Of course it was wrong. No one thinks otherwise, and I'm not here to convince anyone of that point. What I'm saying is that irrespective of it being wrong, you can take steps to be better in future. But to do that, you have to want to. You can't fix this without a drive to. I can't help someone who doesn't want to do some heavy lifting."

Kallen paused as she considered this. As Euphemia had said, she wasn't here to instruct. Kallen had known from the beginning she would have to do a lot of work herself to get back to some form she recognised, and Euphemia was offering a direction for this, some expertise from which she could grow. She'd be a fool to turn it up.

Not that she was allowed to at any rate.

* * *

Reuben Ashford, who for all his nerves and introversion was quite frank with his financial affairs and desire to run his team without incurring deficits even if it compromised performance, had stated in 2009 what had with time become a tautology; to compete in Formula One, one needed a yearly income of 90 million euros, and to be at the sharp end of the grid, one would need an influx approaching 200 million. Since his financial coup, wrestling the majority of the former Rosenberg team from the bloodthirsty stakeholders who wanted to pick the team apart like vultures, Lelouch had been able to get a view of just what sort of team Lloyd had been running; and as he looked through the teams balance sheet, it struck Lelouch that while Lloyd was a good designer, he was a poor businessman.

Moreover, he was not only a poor businessman, he was also cursed by a lack of recognition that he was a poor businessman. Lelouch himself had many deficiencies, including having control issues, being unable to use his arm, a complete lack of knowledge or interest in the technical details of the sport, and was a mediocre driver on his best day. However, Lelouch was aware of this, and outsourced solutions where his inability became an issue. By contrast, Lloyd had charged blindly in, only realising he had made a mess of things after he had gotten his grubby little hands all over them, unbound by such inhibiting chains as accountants, an assistant, or a basic sense of finance.

Upon further examination, Lelouch quickly saw what had unfolded with the team. Lloyd was trying to run a top flight team on a midfielder's budget, and while his self-headed design department had the brains to envision a cutting edge car, committing those designs to flesh and metal hogged resources, and the teams debt escalated to well into the hundreds of millions.

Lelouch's primarily French sponsors followed him out of racing and into management, propping up a collective 60 million in capital, with a further 15 million per year for the next three years in return for prominent placing of logos and advertising on the car, and the use of both drivers for their own advertising. Kaguya put up 15 million herself, and her contacts put together put up a separate 70 million, as individual investors.

After meeting with V.V over New Years, Lelouch had no trouble enticing him to the project, with the boyish man leaping for joy at the prospect of returning to the sport. While he only put in 5 million personally, his various subsidiary subordinates together brought 120 million Euros to the rescue package.

This proved sufficient to satisfy the debts, and while it was not enough to buy the company outright, the government appointed administrator offered a deal; their money would be accepted as an offer for the firms factory and design centre, which would be sufficient to allow it to continue business, and it would be allowed to resume operations by the 2nd of January, as opposed to going through the long completion procedure at the end of January.

Lelouch was fundamentally conflicted. It meant losing the cars that had been developed, as well as the rights to the Rosenberg name which was withheld by an indebted sponsor, however with preseason testing in February, Lelouch knew that the longer the team went without working, the worse it would get for them.

At some point, he had to pull the plug on negotiations, and accepted the deal on the 1st, ultimately settling out of court. It was not ideal, and with more time he could have regained the missing pieces, however he knew he had to set a deadline for the purchase. The team was handed over to the new investors on the second, and following a court filing on the 4th established the new private limited company that would operate out of Northamptonshire on the grounds of the old Rosenberg team, the Schwarzenritter-Lamperouge team was born.

And not a moment too soon; they had the whole winter's work to do in a month and a half, and any further delays that did not get their car made quicker were untenable.

Each year, every team builds a new car from the ground up, creating a brand new architecture from which they can develop a competitive package. Over the course of the year, the car is developed up off this platform until the concept approaches its limits, at which time a new concept is penned for the next season.

While the initial CFD drafts were lost to history, Lloyd was at least useful for something, and could from memory redraft them in under forty eight hours powered by nothing but energy drinks and pudding, which was excellent, but there was now a race against time to realise the concept in the factory, and given Lloyd's complex designs, this would be no mean feat given the technical assets at their disposal. It was a very literal case of the technology at hand not having caught up with the design concepts.

"So what did you call us in for?"

Lelouch shuffled slightly, turning his torso towards V.V, who sat lazily at the seat to his left, leaning back like a Roman at lunch who had presented the question, sounding almost irritated at his day being interrupted. The Frenchman sniffed, leaning briefly with his working hand on the chair before addressing the room.

"Given that we were not able to retain the cars, this years car will retain very few similarities with last years. The plan is to launch the R22 Gawain on February the 24th, which is a month and a half from now. However, as we build up a backlog of parts, we will face significant methodological struggles with our supply chain unless we can all keep our eyes and ears open and make sure everything works harmoniously. I've gathered you all here so we can iron out responsibilities and our timetable for the next two months. I trust each department has their own copy of the blueprints?"

All parties about the table nodded, having surveyed the draft documents. The car was characteristically ambitious, though with less appendages than some previous iterations. The car at present was limited to the fundamental shape, which would have to be developed over the season. This would mean their early season would be rough, but it was necessary to get the car ready for Australia. With that, Lelouch began to lay out his primary ambition.

"I have surveyed our human resources. On the document I've put in front of you, I've proposed a new command and organisational structure. Previously, all command and initiative flowed from Lloyd, which led to backlogs. With all due respect, Lloyd is an engineer, not a manager. What we need is to have him spending as great a percentage of his working hours engineering as opposed to micromanaging other members of the team."

Lloyd nodded to acknowledge his failings, while the Frenchman paused. Lelouch was bullish on the advantages of modular organisation, and particularly given the extent to which all aspects of the car would need a lot of concentrated attention, splitting up the areas as opposed to getting the entire factor behind individual elements, one at a time, would mean that the heavy-handed inspecificities of the design could be elaborated on and ironed out by a series of small teams.

"As such, I'm proposing a reformed structure of decentralised command. The engineering, design, and race mechanics' department will operate under the mandate of team heads, who will delegate to a series of squads who will be tasked with independent objectives. These small teams of three to five people will each be given a period to accomplish one task. This will mean that they can focus on their own works, rather than having the whole work force on single projects, which can contribute to inefficiencies. These squads will be supervised and advised by a leading Squad, Squad Zero, which will ensure the car as a cohesive unit is not compromised. These small units will build a rapport, improving morale, as well as improving task flexibility should concepts prove flawed."

Feeling immensely pleased with himself, Lelouch puffed up his chest and concluded "Based on my preliminary survey of the workforce, I've already drafted an initial plan for squad divisions, as well as a list of tasks for each one, per what I have been told by Lloyd."

Lelouch looked around the room, taking in the responses. V.V seemed quietly impressed at how thorough Lelouch had been, while Lloyd was simply happy to be relieved of the managerial work he hated.

"So where are we at? What issues do you see?"

Lloyd looked at the schedule in front of him, and took some time to think before responding, eventually commenting "The big issue right now is the floor of the car. We will only have one floor ready and installed in time for the shakedown in Britain on the 20th, two days after final assembly, and quite possibly the launch as well. A group of five will take about ten working days to print it, and another twenty to install. If this is the case, Day 1 and 2 of pre-season testing will be predominantly matching our floor and diffuser correlations. This also means that if we break it on the 20th, we're buggered on our launch."

Lelouch nodded, before commenting "Well, that's not the plan."

Tapping his knuckles, V.V interjected by asking Lloyd "Right now, do you still think getting to the shakedown is something that we should be planning to achieve?"

Seeming initially put off by V.V and his forward nature, Lloyd eventually replied with some hesitation "I'd say we have an 80% chance of making it. It'll depend on several things, but it definitely should be what we plan for."

Lelouch nodded, before allowing a period of silence to reign, providing for any individuals who wanted to voice any concerns. None presented themselves, and so he simply concluded with "Right then, hop to it."

With that, Lelouch turned to leave the room, stepping with conviction back into the hallway. He had taken to walking with a cane to use his good arm to prop up his sensitive torso, and poked it into the carpet with great force at each step. He was hoping to meet with Nunnally, however just as he stepped towards the front room, he was stopped by Cecile, who called his name to arrest his hurried walk.

Turning to acknowledge her, Lelouch sat his body weight on the heel of his hand before asking "Did you need something?"

"Well…" she hummed, clearly uncertain. "First of all, thank you for rescuing the team but… given… the circumstances, and what you've said, what are we going to do about Glinda?"

Lelouch frowned, as he considered the elephant in the room. Given that Rosenberg no longer existed, Suzaku's and Marrybel's contract to and with Rosenberg in their capacity as driver were moot. There was no way they were going to do anything but try to keep Suzaku on side, such was his almost boring level of competence. However, their other driver, Marrybel Glinda, while not poor, was certainly not worth earth and heaven to retain, and moreover, Lelouch was not neutral in the discourse regarding the rightful owner of the second seat.

With his newfound position, he now had an opportunity to insert a certain Rolo Lamperouge into the second seat, and this, though never made explicit, was certainly not a secret, not least to Marrybel herself, who was oscillating between frustration and an accepting dourness. She, indeed much like the factory as a whole, was simply waiting on the final statement from the board of directors.

Which, in turn, left the issue to Lelouch. He paused, not wanting to make too quick a ruling, particularly given how likeable the Canadian driver was, however he acknowledged he had to be decisive.

"Draft up a contract for the second option. Try and break it to Glinda gently."

* * *

 **Just a cheeky chapter drawn up now that my Contract lecture's been cancelled. Unfortunately the dearth of content is likely to continue until the summer, saving some change. Sorry about this, but you can leave a review if you're feeling nice. Cheers.**

 **~Eth0**


	38. OK38 - The Brecon Marathon is Decadent

**OK Number 38 - The Brecon Marathon is Decadent and Depraved**

* * *

Kallen huffed as she crested the hill. Letting off the acceleration for a moment as the undulating road began to fall away from her. Her brow was lined in sweat and her chest felt bound by the pressure of oceans as she approached the descending set of winding curves that lay ahead, winding down towards the base of the rotation. The cold air rushed past her face as she tried to roll back the speed she carried over the hill, gently applying deceleration to avoid putting too much force through her feet into the tarmac.

Bringing down the pace as she felt her guts rise through her body, she leant into the flowing Welsh curves as she fell through the Brecon Beacons, with all her focus fixated on maintaining her flow and momentum as she approached the end of her lap of the mountain track.

Her running lap of the mountain track, to be exact.

The front of her shins, now acting as brakes, were alight, and she could only just about force air through her lungs in phlegmy gulps. The marathon route was well trod, which stunned Kallen given how taxing the path was, climbing two and a half kilometres through some of the highest mountains in Britain before winding back down, settling into the wet, cold, miserable, dark valley whose pubs were devoid of distinguishable accents and homes were devoid of electricity. Kallen had grown to hate it, associating every inch of its muddy miserable country scenery with the feeling of a bloody throat and hobbling ankles.

However, the forty kilometre path had been getting her fit, and she was not playing about when she promised to outwork Suzaku. With four circuits per week, on top of her indoor strength training, Kallen existed with a permanent feeling of numb exhaustion blended with pain, however she had undeniably been improving. She always hit a wall towards the end that she had to push through with miserable brute force, however it had been arriving later and later in the run.

This didn't make the experience any less horrible though.

As she leant into her shins to slow into the finish line, she took one last swig of her hip flask before moving towards a bench outside an outhouse to sit, feeling lightheaded as she caught her breath and looked at her stopwatch.

"Five hours ten minutes… bloody… gotta do… some cooldowns…"

Delirious, Kallen could only lean back into the seat with a listless stare for longer than she cared to admit before beginning to cool down her muscles. Lunging down onto her off knee to stretch her thigh, she barely kept herself upright as she let the muscles unfurl and expel their pent up stress.

So exhausted was Kallen that she failed to observe the large jeep pull up across the road until it let out a large sounding of its horn, which was so surprising to the Japanese driver that she fell over upon being struck by its sudden permeance within her eardrums.

As she sat back up in stunned silence, she caught a hazy glimpse of Euphemia, the dainty woman dissonantly sat at the helm of the hulking off roader, who waved across from the drivers seat.

Kallen frowned, trying to make sense of the scene in front of her and wondering what Euphemia wanted, before she enumerated it with a shout of "Do you want a lift or not?"

Even after Euphemia explained, in her deoxygenated state it took Kallen a few moments to put together what Euphemia had explained, and a few more to haul herself out of the gravel and trudge across the pockmarked tarmac towards her.

"You look pretty beat." Euphemia commented as Kallen climbed in. The redhead did not afford a response as the pair drove off. She simply sank into the seat and allowed the car to drag her out of the hellhole that was southwestern Wales.

It was not until they had returned to civilization, better described as the land subject to Part IV of the Local Government Act 1972, the area consisting of the counties established by section 1 of that Act, Greater London and the Isles of Scilly; England.

Once they had crossed over the border, Euphemia clearly felt safe enough to try engaging with the corpse in the seat across from her, asking "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty spent." Kallen huffed breathlessly, to which Euphemia chuckled "I can imagine! You weren't kidding when you said you'd push yourself."

"You bet your ass."

Even though it was said with little energy or vigor, the stout reply still had some weight, causing Euphemia to smirk with appreciable approval. After a moment, the therapist inquired further, noting "That must be some incredible drive that gets you to keep at that."

Somewhat blindsided by having to think of a meaningful response while barely able to lift her ehad off the seat, she mumbled an uncertain "Eah…", before trying to think about the question and disguise her initial inability to answer.

However, Euphemia, intentionally or not, pressed on, asking "What gets you to do that? I'm curious professionally, it's quite remarkable. What's driving you to push?"

Kallen was more alert when the question crossed her metaphorical desk, however she still lacked a good response. She was doing all this because she wanted to win, but the underlying reasons for this were still undefined. Lelouch, just before Australia last year, had commented that Suzaku had nailed his motivation and sense of purpose to a fine art, with ambition fuelling his endeavour. He had challenged her, asserting that until she found something similar to latch onto and have to pull her along, Suzaku would be unbeatable.

Kallen had not taken this onboard, and it would appear, depending on how you interpreted the events that followed, his words may have been prescient. However, nothing appeared to strike Kallen as obvious.

It was certainly not something Kallen had placed a significant amount of thought into. Indeed, her recent escapades had forced one of her few significant moments of introspection, that not being an exercise that was well practiced. Why was she doing all this?

It was certainly not out of necessity; while Naoto's medical bills had been a concern for a time, Kallen had a reasonable cushion to find some comfort without putting herself through this training, effort, and public pressure. Very rarely was racing pursued as a career based on a financial reckoning; instead, there was something more primal that attracted its best and brightest.

Kallen could recall in great detail every moment she had ever spent at the wheel of a racing car. She could summon up without delay the feel of the felt steering wheel, her hands barely big enough to wrap around it, when she first sat in a kart at the age of three. It was her oldest memory, and brilliantly tactile. The bumps and shakes of the soil still reached through the steering rack and the intervening years.

But most significant was the speed; the edge of her vision blurring as the scenery rushed by and the g-forces tugging at her gut made her feel more alive than anything in the world.

Looking back, she found that she had forgotten birthdays, celebrations, exams, and all the rest; her treasured memories came from the cockpits of racing cars. Her heart rate peaked, her focus was absolute, and every moment was engraved into her memory.

"I guess…" she began, hesitating, "It's the speed, that sense of being on the absolute limit, right on the edge and wringing every ounce out of it. The stronger I get, the more fit I get, the closer I can get to that last few percentage points of what the car can do. The way I do it… I'm literally manhandling the thing, I wrestle the car into positions it isn't meant to be and if I can't hold on, then…"

"So it's the speed that drew you?" Euphemia encouraged.

"Yeah." Kallen nodded, finding more certainty in what she said. "This is the fastest circuit series in the world, and my brother was already in it. I was like a moth to a light."

Indeed, in spite of the case of it being very much the case that she had fallen into the seat by virtue of Naoto's crash, she had been driven to these miracle machines, these wunderwaffe, just to experience what they could do, and what she could do with them.

"I don't know if you watch the races, but there is a sense… every lap… I don't just want to be fast in the sense that I win. I want to be the fastest through every corner, in every lap, at every session. It's the sheer feel, that lightness, where the car is just about to break away from you, where it's just blissful."

"How does it make you feel?"

"Eh?"

"How does that feel, when you're on the lap where it's all going right and you're just flying the car up the road?"

"There's just an immense oneness, the car just feels like an extension of me. We just slither up the tarmac, all four wheels on fire, and all my senses just tune into the road. The road is all consuming, and I'm just swallowed up by it. My heart is racing, but it's the closest to peace I can imagine."

"What's your favourite track?"

"Probably Silverstone."

"Talk me through a lap. Try and imagine yourself driving it as you describe it to me. Use your arms and feet to mimic the movements, whatever gets you in the feel."

"So, I'm at the far left edge of the track, and I'm after feeling it wind all the way up, like a spring. There's a great energy about the thing, and once I pass the board on the right I turn in for turn one. The whole car tugs away under my arms, but I can hold the wheel just so so that it grazes the kerb on the inside, before I swap the lock and it hurtles to the other side. It's-"

"Sorry to interrupt but… how do you feel?"

"I feel pretty good."

"Today's session is cancelled. You deserve the rest."

* * *

"Hey, Suzaku! Rolo! Get down here! Lelouch has an announcement!"

Suzaku let out a huff as he allowed the weight plate, propped up on the end of a steel pole, to drop to the floor with a dull thud. He shook, before grabbing a towel to wipe at his face and finally turning to acknowledge the yell from across the small gym, near the basement of the human resources building, across the way from the factory.

"I'll be right down!"

Suzaku made his way to the door, flanked by the baby-faced Rolo. The man from rural Nagano was thoroughly undecided as to the question to his new teammate. On one hand, Rolo was incredibly eager to both learn and contribute, with Suzaku knowing from experience that he was an earnest young man, if somewhat credulous. However, there was a degree to which the whole affair sat poorly with him. Certainly, given that Lelouch had rescued the team, installing his brother as the second driver was well within his rights, but it was hardly a seat earned through endeavour.

Suzaku did not lack self-awareness to such a gross extent to imagine his background as the son of an ambassador did not allow him the ability to pursue his passion and open the door financially. That being said, he had worked he way through F4, winning in his third season, winning F3 in his first season, and then F2 in his first season again. Unlike many of the recent success stories, he had not been backed by a dedicated team youth program, contrasting Kallen who was part of the Rebellion young driver academy, instead having to impress independent teams with his talent. For Rolo to now leapfrog into a seat left Suzaku with a bad taste in his mouth.

However, the young driver was at least graceful about it, making a point of trying to ingratiate himself with both Suzaku and the team at large, offering to help as much as he could and trying to match Suzaku in training hours, if not the weights and speed.

In any case, these musings occupied Suzaku all the way to the main technology centre, where he could see through the glass front that a crowd had gathered in the lobby. A bustling group of some two hundred gained volume once the Japanese driver moved through the door and could appreciate the din, however he pressed to the front to see what was going on.

As he reached the front, the scene unveiled itself. Enjoying a clearing from the crowd, Lelouch stood at the centre of the room, the heels of both his hands dug into the top of his cane, propping him vertically. However, he refused to allow flashes of vulnerability, closing up his torso behind his two arms, forming a protective vee that shielded the centre of his form, with the withdrawn yet assertive look completed with a slightly dipped head and eyes aimed upwards, surveying the crowd through his eyebrows.

He stood as the crowd began to gather at a perimeter, figure still hidden, and allowed chatter to grow through the surrounding factory staff, the volume of the room slowly amping up as they waited for Lelouch to state his intentions.

Suddenly, the Frenchmans head flicked back, his chin reaching for the sky as he exposed his face. It may have played into what Suzaku considered an irritating flair for the dramatic, but it worked; at the sudden motion of throwing his forehead vertically, suddenly he had the attention of the room, with the chatter dying instantly.

With his bent nose presented at full mast, Lelouch's eyes shifted briefly, before he cleared his throat and began.

"First of all thank you for coming. I know you've all had to get used to a completely new model of operation, and you've taken to it fantastically. I'd especially like to thank the fabrication teams, who have done a great job in machining parts under huge pressure. Without them, our situation would be a great deal more dire."

Lelouch's eyes switched from side to side, quietly reading the room, before he cleared his throat and continued, with some hesitation, "However, there have been a few hitches. This is not unexpected, nor is it the fault of anyone here. Given the narrow timeframe we had set ourselves, our limited rescources, and ambitious plans, it was a miracle we had as few issues as we did, and, given how slim our chances of meeting our aspirations were, we should not be discouraged at the first sign of falling short of our initial ideal goals."

Sighing, he shook his head and spoke firmly, but quietly.

"Our car will not be ready for shakedown."

There was a sudden vacuum in the room, the air sucked out of it by the collective and immediate intake of breath. A disillusioned instinct, like a wince sucked through the back teeth, fell on all present, with widened eyes on all faces. Suzaku frowned, with his eyes simply falling to the ground, as Lelouch continued.

"Our attempts to install the fuel cell have failed. We will have to remove the floor and try to install it from underneath. This will have a few implications. We have changed our plans to reveal the car before shakedown and instead will reveal it before testing in Spain. We will perform our planned shakedown tests on the first day of testing in Spain, before proceeding with our initial plans for that two week session. However, if we are to make this date, we will only be able to have one car finished in time for that series of tests."

This was not the worst of all possible situations, as only one car would be allowed to run at Barcelona in any event, however there would be no spares, and the team would be building the second car throughout the test as opposed to new parts to apply to the first based on the data extracted over the course of the test. However, while Suzaku was realistic, Lelouch never said die, and his voice took an even firmer, more fiery tone.

"This period will be all hands on deck. Once we have the floor sealed, our plans and timetables will be dictated by the emerging needs of the project. I cannot imagine, for all of you who have given so much, this is in any way news that makes for pleasant listening."

Lelouch paused, though he was not silent. His breathing grew unsteady, and loud, and he shook himself. He had the full attention of the room, and as his breath returned, he spoke with authority.

"I will be down in the facilities helping in any way that I can. I will make sure I am at the disposal of any and all teams as and when they require an extra pair of hands or consultation on administrative procedure. I will not leave this factory until the car is done. After all, how can I expect you to sacrifice if you see me not also doing so? How do not lead from the front how can I expect you to follow me?"

His rising voice, like a general corralling his troops into a hopeless mission, was infectious. As he spoke the mood rose, the eyes which were down were lifted, and suddenly there was, instead of a dull fatalism, a sudden anticipation of the coming challenges. He had reframed it from something to be mourned to something to be taken on by the horns. They were suddenly the ragtag band taking on the impossible task, an image that sat very comfortably with the engineers, who were now smiling and nodding.

Satisfied, Lelouch, now speaking over what had become a jovial crowd, affirmed "Right then. Not a moment to lose. I've put out emails that set out tasks that need to be done. Each team will grab a reel and work it until it's done. Then you grab the next reel you see. With a few dozen teams, that list of tasks is going to shrink in a real hurry. I believe in you."

* * *

 **I considered an April Fools chapter for today, and very nearly did it, however I decided, to avoid annoying everyone too badly, to compromise. This is a legit chapter, however the fool here is that if you got your hopes up for a return to regular uploads, that will not be soon in coming. While the TEP has** **abridged term lengths, it has also meant that that which remains is all the more intense. Still, I was able to write this, and I hope I haven't fallen out of practice too badly.**

 **Why don't you let me know by leaving a nice review?**

 **~Eth0**


	39. OK39 - New Beginnings

**OK Number 39 - New Beginnings**

* * *

The phones were tingling, like free flowing toes at the end of the bed. Lelouch had just finished a curt discussion with the engine installation department, and was launched headlong into a chassis department, likely asking something banal about copyright or decision making or the administrative minutae. Lelouch felt like a firefighter, responding to his ship lurching from crisis to crisis if and when they arose to try and keep Schwarzenritter-Lamperouge time from suffering a stillbirth.

He felt like an overweight infant, Lelouch picked up the phone with a weary sense of being barely able to sustain a floating front crawl, with each stroke consuming a lungs worth of oxygen, with his two lungs barely able to pull his arm out of the water. Heavy breathing, heavy blood, heart beating slowly but with a forceful vigor, Lelouch was not unaware of these signs and what they meant.

However, Lelouch had put his health on the line for this sport before, and was prepared to do it again.

"Right, what is it you need?"

Lelouch kept one hand on the phone, pinning it to his ear as he scribbled down notes from the conversation, breathlessly whispering out his responses as he got a grasp of the situation, though this one seemed initially to defy common sense.

"Say again?"

When Lelouch made his promise to not leave the engineering department, he was not mincing words. After asking Rolo to fetch his essential equipment, essentials and a hammock, Lelouch set up his base of operations, combining a hotel room with a makeshift office which he manned almost constantly, outsourcing his supply of meals and being loath to retire for the evening, struggling to fall asleep even once he had thrown in the towel. In the several weeks he had been doing the work, he had heard some downright inspiring words and some pitiful ones.

This fell into the latter.

"I'm… I don't understand quite what you mean, you designed it, what do you mean it doesn't fit? Don't say that again, don't just say 'It doesn't fit.' to me again."

"But sir, it doesn't."

Lelouch had never been completely comfortable in the finer arts of car setup as a driver, not ever becoming quite familiar with what each component contributed, and how they should be adjusted to amend a given issue. Lelouch had always been quite jealous of Suzaku in this respect, with Suzaku having an otherworldly intimacy with the cars he drove, and an intricate mental image of how each variable contributed to the overall package. Even if Lelouch had wound up being the head of a different team, he still would have sought out Suzaku to take up the charge of giving feedback and driving the development of the car, a field in which he was only matched by the old guard of Gino and Xingke. The difference was that Suzaku was only entering his fourth season, whereas Gino had twelve under his belt. Suzaku was a prodigy, and would take a central role in focusing the direction of the team.

What all of this was to say was that Lelouch was having to learn about many of these technical details for the first time, with his head being more geared towards business than engineering. However, he in spite of this lack of any background in design he could only respond with aghast scepticism at the idea… no, he could not word it any more plausibly than the woman on the other end of the line;

"The main connector pins don't fit, the engine mount on the chassis is fifteen millimetres too narrow. It won't insert."

Shaking his head, Lelouch asked back "But you designed it. Did the engine magically get bigger? Did the gremlins get fed last night and decide to fiddle? What on Earth happened?"

"We didn't get the right specifications."

Lelouch wiped his face with his sweaty hand, before sighing and responding "Can you change the pins at all to fit it?"

"No." came the response. "They're integrated into the chassis, the engine is a stress member for the chassis. It's structurally integral, and so the connector pins are built into it rather than glued on."

Lelouch paused to consider the problem, before coming to a response.

"Look, you're hired to do your job because you know what you're doing, and I don't. I'd reckon you could try to have a word with the fluid dynamics and scanning department to digitise the frame and engine, then fabricate a sleeve that will fill the gap between the engine and mount, but I don't go around telling ye how to fix things, because I just don't know. If there's an obvious flaw in that, please try whatever you think will work. Just let me know so that I can clear out whatever administrative hurdles may arise so that you can not go too much over your deadline. We still need to get the floor in on the 20th, so if we get this done by tomorrow a lot of things become a lot easier."

"Gotcha, it'll be sorted one way or t'other. Appreciate the flexibility you're giving us, we'll sort it."

Lelouch nodded, acknowledging what it must have been like under Lloyd who surely insisted that his design, vision and intention remain as pure as he conceptualised them in the design studio, and what an atmosphere which stifled autonomy must have been like, before hanging up the phone and leaving her to her business.

With another item ticked off his list of things to see to, he moved swiftly to the next one, muttering "No rest for the wicked." However, as he moved towards writing an email towards a gold company to procure foil for the fuel cell, he got a tap on the wall just outside his office, segregated from the engineering facility by tarp and curtains. He chirped up, inviting them in with a simple "You don't need to knock. If I'm doing something private I'll be in the bogs."

The employee, who turned out to be from PR, entered undeniably sheepishly with a newspaper in hand. Lelouch could tell that he was still living with post traumatic stress from his previous employer, and so the Franc tried to visibly destress himself, taking a less tense and more open posture, and grinning, albeit tiredly, towards the man who barely looked much older than Lelouch was.

"What's your name?" Lelouch invited, clearing some space across his desk for him, trying to create an approachable image. As well as helping this individual situation, this gentleman would likely spread around how nice the new boss was to his coworkers.

It certainly seemed his injuries hadn't impeded his social engineering at any rate.

"Felix, sir." he nodded. "We've been written about, and another paper wants to hear your response."

Lelouch, who had had his nose to the grindstone for the better part of a week, could only shrug and respond "I've been busy, haven't read it."

"Assumed you hadn't, so I brought it with me so you could before they sic the journalists on you while you're behind the curve."

Lelouch nodded, picking it up and spinning it round before resting it on his lap.

"I can't promise you'll like it." Felix warned. Lelouch didn't know what this meant until he scanned over it, reading it aloud.

"Schwarzenritter… Great bunch of people… the best will in the world to them… but the wheels will never hit the tarmac. They went under for a reason, and are not likely to turn a wheel this side of the return of Christ. Why do they bother?"

Lelouch spoke the last few words with disgust, before tossing it back on his desk. After waiting a moment, Felix prompted "So, what am I to respond with?"

Lelouch shook his head, before muttering "I am going to… bloody… heh, let's not start swearing before midday, we are going to show everyone, including the… gentleman who penned this bloody galaxy brained think piece, that they're wrong. This team is going to make it even if it has to be dragged by its two front teeth. We are going to produce this car, we are going to get to the grid, and we are going to win some bloody grands prix… och, merde."

"That's a swear."

Lelouch grinned, and pointed to Felix before commenting "You'll go far. Now write back and summarise that in a more palatable way."

Felix nodded, before beating a hasty retreat. Lelouch caught his breath, and mopped his face with a wet dishcloth. Intending to follow up on a note on the rear differential team, he moved towards the phone, however he was beat to the punch by someone calling him.

Picking it up immediately, he spoke first without waiting to exchange formalities. Time was of the essence, and now that they were deep into crunch time, any time spent on non-essential communication was wasted. In his time spent trying to sleep or on the bog, he even contemplated implementing a whole new code language which would make conversations order of magnitude more efficient.

But his Newspeak fantasy had not materialised, and

"Name, number, department."

"Oliver Hughes-Holland, 2296, Fuel Cell."

"What's needed?"

Lelouch paused, before his eyes shrank to pinpricks.

After a lengthy pause, he could only whisper "C… could you say that again?"

* * *

Kallen smiled towards the crowd, all armed to the teeth with flashing cameras, barrels trained on Gino and herself, stood to either side of the car, borne of the minds that more money than God could buy, as well as the material resources the above could avail of, hidden beneath a grey fabric shroud.

The car, called the RPI-15/SC Gloucester, had begun development early in the previous season once it dawned on engineers that they would not be competing for the title that year. As such, the fundamentals of the car were built around Gino's preferences, which leant more towards a stable platform which gave reliable understeer under acceleration and braking. As Gino often said, slow was smooth, and smooth was fast. Of course, this was the exact opposite of Kallens thesis of overdriving the car and throwing it into unconventional situations to extract performance, in what was charitably described as 'roller-skating the car up the road', and uncharitably described as 'stabbing the throttle until the car has rounded the corner.'

But the influence of Fangio and Stewart marched on, and in the world according to Gino the throttle was used as an instrument to modulate understeer as opposed to rotating the car, races should be won at the slowest possible speed, and pineapple was an acceptable topping for pizza. Given that Kewell had not intended to stay with the team after he got his drive in V8 Supercars, its fundamental architecture was suited to Gino's needs.

Of course, it was a ways better than Tohdoh's situation, whereupon he was only brought back to the Rebellion team at the eleventh hour with a car designed for drivers who weren't there anymore. Which, in turn, was far better than Suzaku's situation of having a team that would not be able to produce a car in time, or at all, depending on what speculation you believed.

Of course, this reveal event, hosted in a round conference hall in north Aylesbury in the southern scarp of Britain's "motorsport valley", running from Slough to Cambridge, was not about these other teams. This event was all about revealing their challenger for this year. It still took Kallen a few moments to connect the idea of the car being 'hers'. She had spent two years with Camelot as either her primary opponent or a tertiary obstacle, and indeed one of the few constants between the two years was that Camelot had been one of the teams at the sharp end of the grid opposing her. Given how longs she had spent building herself up in practice and races to beat them, to now be one of them certainly made for some cognitive dissonance.

People did this all the time, she reassured herself. Niki Lauda, God rest his soul, was the typecast Ferrari driver until he switched to McLaren. The names Alain Prost and Renault were interchangeable until the former also moved to McLaren.

Even so, she still had to take a moment to appreciate it. She would make another attempt at the title. Driving the car in front of her. With the Camelot team behind her.

Kallen puffed up her chest, invisible though it was through the fireproof overalls, three layers thick and hot as the surface of the sun though it may have been. This was certainly not something that changed between teams; under the floodlights and roof, the thin, thick, and thin nomex layers trapping heat like layers of carbon enveloping the Earth.

But hey, at least she would be safe if the joint caught fire.

Suddenly, the lights began to dim, and she swapped glances with Gino. It was almost time. Kallen took a breath, as she prepared to present her challenger.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the CEO and Managing Director of Camelot-Yggdrasil, Bartley Asprius!"

Kallen was still, not certain if she ought to join in the applause, but it seemed a moot point as all the attention was on the balding executive, who was waving as he entered by the depressed tunnel. Climbing up the steps to enter the arena like circle area just below the rowed seating, he had to swivel about on the spot to nod to all the press, and ensure they were all accommodated.

Satisfied, he placed his palms together and took in a visible breath, his chest swelling, before he released all the air and began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. I hope the porters didn't treat you too badly."

This earned a laugh, before Bartley continued.

"Over the seasons before last, we have always strived to not only be competitive, but to always build the best cars, to have the best architectures, the best structures, and to place all of these within the hands of the best pilots. At Camelot, we do not look over any element. All members of our team are carefully selected and honed, all instruments within our toolbox to ensure that we can extract the most from our package. However, last year was our second worst in a decade. We knew that change was necessary, on all fronts, to ensure we remained competitive."

"All the teams in this sport are continuing to find pace, both over a season and in the winter. To win, you must not only improve, but improve far quicker than the competition. If you fight to improve your package at every weekend, it is very possible you will only retain your current standing, as opposed to improving it. As such, no stone has been left unturned. Structure, concept, chassis, and indeed, as you can already see, driver lineup. Joining our ally of seven year Gino Weinberg is the immense talent of Kallen Kōzuki."

There was a smattering of reserved applause, but clearly muted from what it had been. There was undoubtedly the phantom of Lelouch lingering in the crowd which made Kallen uneasy. Sensing, from the pause in Bartley's speech, an invitation to speak up, she stepped forward from behind the front wing.

"Urhm…"

What should she do with her hands? Finger tent? No, that was perceived as more calculating and detached, but she couldn't just let them fall by her side! The only thing worse than that was putting her hands in her pockets, a sin that only just outstripped crossing them in front of her chest.

Arggh! What was she thinking? She was trying to command a crowd, and she was worried about her hands? Gah! She eventually decided to just clasp her hands in front of her waist, step forward even further and stick her neck out.

"Well, I do appreciate Mr Bartley's charitable description of the skills of a driver who bottled the first half of 2018 and missed an open goal at the eleventh hour, and that's not even to mention the elephant in the room."

She paused, briefly looking down to find the best way to phrase it. She was not a victim, however she wanted another chance. It was a narrow tightrope to manage, particularly on the fly. However, with a short halt, she selected the right phrasing, with something akin to a chuckle.

"I can't say I was… exactly sought after once I was let go. I would not be able to blame him if he went for one of the many talented picks he had available to him. It would have been entirely defensible. But he didn't pick them, he picked me."

Kallen looked up this time, steeling herself, before continuing.

"He saw in me… a kindred spirit. Since I parted ways with Rebellion, there has remained a sense of unfinished business. I'm not perfect, and I don't know everything, but I know that I have a ways to go to redeem myself. I failed on track, and off it; but my business with this sport was not finished, in great part thanks to Camelot, who have graciously chosen to facilitate my hopes towards this."

"In this way, Camelot possesses a similar outlook. After a decade of success, they have stumbled, and have lost face. They are seeking to reinvigorate their championship ambitions this year. Jut like me, they want redemption, a spot of vengeance after how last year unfolded. They have unfinished business, and will pull out all the stops to win, just like I will. I will work harder to stay at my peak, just as they will pursue those thousandths of seconds to make the car as fast as it can. We will be making this journey together, as one unified will. We are both seeking the same goal, in both the narrow and broad sense. We both want to win, but that's trivial in this sport. Everyone wants to win. We both want to redeem ourselves, and show that we have earned our place at the front."

Kallen then backed up, having finished her brief moment, feeling reasonably satisfied. Bartley, similarly pleased, played off it, adding "Well, we're birds of a feather in our desire to get back to the sharp end of the field. But let's not engage in historical revisionism here. You got the most Poles of any driver last year. You got the most wins even in spite of not finishing several races, and it was only in the first half you had teething issues. One you hit your stride, you chained something like six victories in a row, and brought the title fight to the last race from a forty-four point gap in the middle point of the season. Ultimately, the two drivers we put in our cars are as fundamental to our performance as tyres, brakes or suspension."

He paused, before smiling and continuing his introduction.

"With this lineup of the most experienced driver on the grid and the fastest qualifier on the grid, we plan to reassert our position at the front of the grid. With that, I am proud to reveal our third competitor for this year, the Gloucester. Kallen, Gino, pull back the cover."

* * *

Lelouch was now out of his atelier and sat at the head of the conference room. His stress, far from having abated, now seemed overwhelming. Every movement threatened to exhaust him wholly, however even so he could not help but place his sinus and forehead into the cradle of his palm, trying to wipe away vast quantities of exhaustion. Instead, it was like trying to pick up mercury with his hand, simply flowing aside and remaining a nuisance.

However, Lelouch chose to ignore it, and down a shot of an anonymous fluid before he tensed his muscles as tight and firm as he could, before allowing them to unwind. This was repeated several times to get his body back under his control, before he shook himself and prepared to get the meeting underway. He had called it as soon as his exchange with the fuel cell team was finished, and people were still hurriedly filing in, changing out of their overalls and into their shirts and ties.

Honestly, as Rolo might have put it, big mood.

Lelouch sat back, unusually fretful as the room filled up. He was responsible, and the failures of his team lay at his feet, and he believed they would share this attitude. He was not eager to bear the brunt of what he suspected would be their disappointment, however it was not only inevitable, but earned. Of course, he wasn't technically minded, nor had he deluded himself into assigning any responsibility to himself in those technical fields where he had no knowledge. However, if only he'd given them more staff, more resources, more wiggle room-

"So what's the story Lelouch?"

Lloyd was his eternally forward self, which set Lelouch somewhat at ease, before he cleared his throat. Taking a leaf out of Lloyd's book, he figured that he might as well deliver the bad news at first instance.

"So… we are not in a condition where we can run in the shakedown in any reasonable capacity. We will not be going to Silverstone on the twentieth."

Lelouch made sure to note the reactions of each employee in the room, before laughing without humour. Some things never changed, and his urge to gauge each of his colleagues' attitudes and, for lack of a better word, loyalty, certainly had not. Suzaku, oftentimes buoyed by the belief that nothing could ever go wrong if sufficiently planned and prepared for, looked down in frustration and shook his head. His solution would no doubt be to double down and work harder, which would have been all well and good he was in any way responsible for building the car, but would only contribute to pent up irritation.

Perhaps of more relevance, the engineers, who had long become accustomed to the possibility of missing the shakedown, were at least restrained in their visible responses. By contrast, Lloyd, who never even contemplated the concept, seemed shocked, only kept upright by the arms and back of his chair. Not having it in himself to roll his eyes, Lelouch continued.

"The primary issue is that our fuel cell is not installed or in a position where it can be installed. Instead, we plan to run a shakedown in Barcelona the Sunday before testing proper begins the next day at the same track. Obviously this loses us the intervening period where we could sort issues, but to head to Silverstone now would be redundant. No useful data would be gathered. Sorry to have to tell you this.

"So when will the cars be ready?"

"I don't know. If there's an issue with the design-"

"There bloody well is not."

Lelouch sighed. Lloyd was passionate about the direction he had taken this years design, running a long wheelbase for more stability as well as extracting more downforce from the floor. This passion bode well for what successes they could expect over the season, however it did narrow the flexibility of his thinking in terms of the source of difficulty. The trademark tight packaging Lloyd had made his name on proved notoriously difficult to maintain and swap out parts, with many mechanism buried deep within the bowels of the machine, with much of the body effectively shrink-wrapped around the cars organs. Choosing his words carefully, Lelouch tried to phrase his point in a less offensive manner.

"But yes, assuming hypothetically that there is an issue in the design and concept, that's one scenario. If there was one in manufacturing, that's another. If it has been warped since it was manufactured, that's also another. We would have to take the floor off to confirm these, and if there's any chance of a false negative… I don't know how long it will take, basically."

Lelouch parted his hands, laying them upwards, before concluding with "I'm sorry."

There was a pause, before Cecile mused "Hardly as if you've been slacking."

"Makes no difference." Lelouch replied. "I'm running the team. I don't- I've… I'm not going to run this team by blaming technical staff for doing their jobs and put them on blast. That's not going to foster what we want to see, a workplace that rewards sound thinking and out of the box solutions. Ultimately, it's my fault. I'm in charge, so if I can't take that on the chin I should be thrown out of this building."

This earned a laugh, before Lelouch continued.

"Ultimately, we've now got a new set of goalposts. It's the same as before. We just need to keep ahead of our schedule."

Cecile nodded, and replied "I know, we're doing our best and with all likelihood we'll get there-"

"No, not in all likelihood. We will be there. No maybes about it."

* * *

 **So this wasn't what I planned for.**

 **Furthermore, even once I got to grips with my new situation, it still isn't what I planned.**

 **Okay, perhaps I owe you an explanation.**

 **I published the last chapter on the first of April of 2019. Today is the eleventh of September 2019. Furthermore, I had not, in April, published a chapter since early January, having up to that point maintained a reasonably regular schedule. I must apologise for getting your hopes up, but I didn't plan for what happened next.  
**

 **On the tenth of April, nine days after I posted the last chapter, I was coming home by bus from university, and tried to cross the road from the bus stop to the farm I cut through to get the rest of the way home. However, while corssing the road, I was hit by a car, brow bone going into the A pillar, before bouncing back and landing the back of my head on the tarmac. I sustained significant brain damage, particularly to visual memory, alongside two bleeds on the brain which nearly brought this story to a very early end. I spent ten days in an induced coma, just over a month in an acute ward, and two months in a rehabilitation centre.**

 **By the point I was discharged it was late July. Thinking I had already been on a non-consensual hiatus for long enough, I figured that a bit longer would be little more strain, so that I could build up my back catalogue of content, which I had hitherto been writing and publishing contemporaneously, hence the frequent spelling and grammar errors.**

 **I have written just over two thirds of the story which remains to be told, or another 100,000 words out of 150,000 remaining words, bringing me a good bit through the 2019 season, up to the sixth to last race. Hopefully I can write as I go along to prevent the content snake from eating itself, but the college term may necessitate another, hopefully shorter hiatus, in about fifteen to twenty chapters time.**

 **This story has sen me through a lot. It's been with me through my first boyfriend, my going to college, my first serious attempt at doing motorsports myself, and my realising a great deal about myself, that much of which I had assumed to be true was not, or at least not true or appropriate for myself.**

 **So, with a new name, I hope you can see this story to the end with me. The perspective I began this story with has changed dramatically, and certainly many of the stories I had told before 2018 I look back on with some reservation, but the story hasn't ended. Thank you for sticking with me.**

 **G1lles**


	40. OK40 - Fear&Loathing in the Winter Test

**OK Number 40 - Fear And Loathing in the Winter Test '19  
**

* * *

There were several immediate indicators to Kallen that, just as Dorothy realised intuitively that, upon her arrival in the Land of Oz hat she had in fact left the midwestern state of Kansas, that she was no longer driving a car designed by Rakshata Chawla, that arose within a few laps of hurling it around the Circuit de Barcelona Catalunya.

Of course, not all of the differences between this car and her previous Rebellions were able to be traced back to their different designs and philosophies. Even where there had been the same designer and team, with her 2017 and 2018 car, there had been stark differences; one long, one short, one low rake, one taut, and so on. The 2017 car was designed around Tohdoh, the 2018 one around her. The 2019 car was designed around Gino, however the differences in focus were not comprehensive.

One of the major differences between this year and the previous one, a difference so severe that ASEEC had cut Lloyd Asplund adrift for how expensive the changes would have to be to accommodate it; the tyre manufacturer, who had been the sole supplier of all teams, was now out of contract, and instead of resigning, the FIA had brought in a new tyre supplier, about whose rubber the suspension would have to be retailored. They were far softer and more grippy, however they were fragile, and liable to blister, and the degradation was based on flex and not heat. They would require a whole new approach, and drivers for whom that was more intuitive would rise up, whereas people who had cut their teeth on the previous compound of tyre would have their patterns interrupted.

Which meant, that as Kallen began to push and push further and further into her car, pace and tyres, it seemed that the cars had a tendency to induce shaking in the steering wheel at the extremities of the lock, indicating a mechanical grip limit being reached as opposed to aerodynamic grip, meant that the primary difference lay in these new tyres. She was somewhat ambivalent; folks like Cornelia, if she was still racing, and Tohdoh, who was just returning this year, would be caught flat footed, having spent years building a style around those tyres, which had been used for almost a decade. By contrast, someone like Rolo Lamperouge would leap right into F1 with no habits or mannerisms, a completely blank slate.

But of course, this was not the sole source of difference that required her to adapt. The Camelot was much bigger, trying to elongate the floor space to maximise the effect of the diffuser. It definitely less of a ballerina, more of a rugby player, less able to turn on a dime but more capable in the high speed corners, and it pulled out speeds on the long straights Kallen was not used to seeing.

Of course, Kallen had an unorthodox way of rotating the car, however it required precision, instantaneous reaction times, and an understanding of what your rear end was doing. Beyond leaping across the track erratically to sniff out patches of grip, Kallen had taken to using the throttle in the mid corner to aggravate the rear end, causing it to slip and induce power oversteer, which would cause the car to rotate beyond the angle and direction of the front wheels. In what ultimately amounted to steering the car with the throttle, much of the understeer inherent in this long wheelbase design could be countered, even though it meant that the rear tyres would be shot within fifteen laps due to excessive wheelspin, exacerbated by Kallens heavy reliance on trail-braking.

This was of the greatest value in the third sector, where in 2007 the flat out sweeper of turns thirteen and fourteen was replaced by an incredibly slow and tight chicane, where the ability to pivot the car at low speed was central. What did surprise Kallen, even in spite of the car being designed around him, was that Gino matched her in sector two, and actually had the legs on her in the first sector. It was clear, particularly given how hard Kallen was pushing, that Gino was no slouch, and given how convincingly Cornelia had beaten him, it did an immense amount for Kallen's opinion of the champion. Perhaps some of that skill had rubbed off on her younger sister.

Of course that would emerge with time, however as she let her tyres, all four worn down to the canvas, roll into the garage she felt comfortable enough in the performance of the car and herself. She hadn't lost any pace over what had been a rocky winter, and was eager to see where she lined up in this new car as she approached the garages, the familiar deep purple, white and red.

To Kallen's confusion, the various engineers at the front of the garage entrance stood away from the car, with puzzled frowns. Kallen could not make sense of why they weren't rushing to attend to the car, however it quickly dawned on her like a lightbulb; this was the Rebellion garage.

She wasn't a Rebellion driver anymore.

Somewhat embarrassed at the habit, she let her hand wave in front of her face as she saw the Rebellion engineers, many of whom she knew, chuckling. She lit the rear tyres up, just wanting to get out of what was in actuality the wrong pit box. She hurried over to the Camelot pit which, given that Rebellion finished second in the constructors championship and Camelot third, meant it was the next one along, and her embarrassment was brief. She turned right into the Camelot garage, painted pink and black, to hide if nothing else. She removed her dayglo red helmet, which had at this point become a staple of her image, and as recognisable as Tohdoh's or the drivers of his generation, before grabbing onto the pillars above her shoulders and raising herself out of the cabin. She shook herself, to stretch some of the dead muscle back into life, before looking over to the timing board.

It was attended to by a nameless engineer, who pointed to the two highlighted names on the black LED screen, before elaborating.

"Gino's best lap was a one minute sixteen point nine, yours… it's a one sixteen seven. Two tenths faster"

"I mean…" Kallen sighed, rather conflicted, before continuing "It's only a smidge faster than last year, I put in a seventeen flat the first day of winter testing last year, but it's not horrifying. That should be there or thereabouts, right?"

The engineer paused, trying to think through what to say, before replying unhelpfully with "Well, yes and no."

"Incredibly constructive."

"Well, we're definitely a solid second."

Kallen blinked, before nodding. "Well, Rebellion was faster than us last year, and Rosenberg have disappeared off the face of the planet, so at least we've moved up a slot by default. I'm sure we can-"

"Rebellion are only just after arriving. They've got pit crews here, but the cars had to be flown in from Japan as opposed to ferried to Spain from the UK. They haven't put in a time yet."

Kallen blinked, before asking, completely confused, "Well then who's ahead? And what time did they set?"

"The Geely of Li Xingke is ahead of both of you, and his teammate Zhou Xianglin is about a tenth behind you, on par with Gino."

She blinked in disbelief, before asking "Well what time has Xingke put in? Can't be too much faster than a sixteen, surely."

"I guess you're gonna have to take a look at this yourself."

Kallen looked to the top, seeing the red flag of the Peoples Republic of China next to Li Xingke's name, spelt out in Pinyin, before looking right to see what his best time was.

It was a one minute, fourteen point eight second time.

Kallen shook her head, not quite believing it before saying "He must have cut the track somewhere, that's not…"

However, the engineer took his turn to shake his head and confirm the times validity, replying "Nope, that was a legit time. Might have been on a low fuel glory run."

Kallen let out a breath and shrugged, before concluding "Well, either that or we're a bit screwed."

"Well… hope for the best, plan for the worst."

Nodding, Kallen replied "That's all you can do. If Xingke has a decent car this year though… then I'm not sure if he'll be any more accommodating or easy than Suzaku was. He demolished the WEC, ate the Endurance Championship for brunch, his car has been the big handicap to his performance. He's an immensely talented overtaker, and tough as nails. Here's hoping it's a fluke."

"Touch wood." the engineer replied. Kallen agreed, and was about to say something else, however there was a holler from outside the garage that interrupted her. As she moved towards the entrance to see what the fuss was about, she quickly learned, as the press began to flock around the Rebellion garage she had just vacated. Some coincidence, they must have just arrived. Kallen knew Tohdoh had come back to replace her, but they hadn't announced who would replace Lelouch, and was curious to see who it would be.

"Woah, holy hell… with this lineup, it's like a blast from the past!"

"For sure! These two drivers driving the two Rebellions? I mean, what year is it?"

Kallen, not knowing who they were talking about, could only guess. She tried to push past the gaggle of reporters, reaching the cover of the roof before catching the back of Diethard Reid, talking to his assistant.

"Wow, just wow… I mean… it's Naoto bloody Kōzuki..."

Confused, Kallen interrupted Diethard from behind by asking confusedly in a loud enough voice to be heard by the commentator, "What about him? Is he here?"

Kallen was hoping that her brother was in the paddock somewhere, and that he was still supporting Rebellion from the sidelines after his sisters public parting with them was what she assumed made his presence gossip-worthy, however Diethard turned, and sent Kallen into a state of shock with his next words.

"He's Rebellion's second driver, he's racing."

Kallen had no response beyond stunned silence. Naoto would race again? Nevermind racing again in FE or WEC either, though both were worthy retirement homes enjoyed by many former champions, he was back not just in F1, but in the top flight thereof; the team which had won the Constructors championship last year, that was where he had made his greatest impact and would be able to wrap up what was unfinished business, not quite 2 years since breaking both of his legs and being told he would never drive again, Naoto was back, and Kallen was honestly too overcome to deliver a coherent reaction.

She was of course overcome with joy that the one person she loved and treasured, he older brother, was back at what he was good at, … however, they had not parted on good terms. Their last contact was Naoto asking by text what she had said to Lelouch to get him to apologise, and he had promptly not believed her when she replied and stopped responding, and their last verbal conversation was two nights after she had attacked Lelouch over the phone, and he had not picked up since then when she called at all.

She honestly couldn't blame him.

All of these negative sentiments and memories of neglect and regret did dampen her enthusiasm abut his return, however, given that this information had been sprung on her at what could generously be described as the eleventh hour, she did not know to what extent it had done so. She hadn't been able to process it and how this affected her initial enthusiasm. She had no idea whether to be happy, or cross, or conciliatory, or whether to just go to her trailer and mull over the meaning of existence.

However, as these thoughts swirled through her head, she realised that she had pushed past Diethard, who had likely asked some manner of stupid question, and was walking further and further into the Rebellion garage, muscling through wads of engineers.

And then, just as the crowd split, she saw him; hair a slightly darker red than hers, bordering on auburn, and worn in a full mullet. Adorning the skintight purple nomex, the sight of him in full racing gear, the notion of him returning having been a practical impossibility for two years, stopped her in her tracks. She just stood there, staring at him as he scowled into his phone, before he looked over and scowled at her.

She gave a visual sigh, before stepping towards him, and feeling a well in her throat, whispered just above the din of the garage in their native Japanese, "Naoto, brother-"

"What the hell do you want?"

Sudden. Immediate. He snapped as if it were a well practiced reflex, restrained in his volume but unrestrained in what he said, even if moderated by the naturally formal structures of Japanese. Hurt by this, Kallen shook her head and replied, almost pleading, "Naoto-san, please, don't-"

He waved his hand in front of his face, shooing her away, before snapping his fingers, seeming to try to get the attention of security. Kallen tried to get a word in, before he interrupted her again.

"Get out of my face." Naoto snarled, before changing tack and putting on a faux impression of feeling intimidated. "I better get out of here before you start trying to beat the shit out of me."

Kallen shook her head, and pleaded "Mum wouldn't want us to fight like this-"

"Mum wouldn't want us to become street thugs who hospitalised people who annoyed us but it seems only one of us got that message."

* * *

"Okay, are we good?"

"I mean, yes. Good. Not great, not terrible, but the fuel cell is at least anchored, which means that we can crank the engine. Good is a good word to describe where we're at."

"At least it's not on fire. Stations!"

As Lelouch gave the command, the fuel cell and engine teams, here working together on what was an immense task, that of installing and starting up the engine for the first time. If this could be done, then they would have one of the biggest outstanding tasks sorted out, with most of the remaining things to do being comparably trivial.

Even so, Lelouch was fretful. The fuel cell work had been finished last night at twelve, however the fabrication of engine fittings was not completed until five o'clock that morning. The engine should have been tested at two o'clock, and fired up at three. It was now twenty five past nine, and they were only starting the cranking, without having done any tests to boot. This was not ideal, but he had a plan to work around it. It was tradition for all the factory workers to be present for the first engine firing, however he could not guarantee it would be successful.

As such, once he had seen it fire up reliably, he would only then invite the factory to see it being fired up for what thy would think was the first time. As he put it, they could not allow what the workers saw in what they had produced to undermine the fruits of their own labour. If they saw failure, they will be dispirited.

However, it was a ways from considering the second or third fire up when they hadn't even had one yet. The mechanics were in position, waiting for his command.

"Get her going."

With that, the button was pressed, with the electronic starter motor mounted below the gearbox utilizing the ERS to try and crank the engine. The hulk of metal did turn over, however it was only for a brief time, not long enough to build up enough momentum for the cylinders to spark.

Lelouch leaned his head back, with mixed emotions. At the very least, his caution had been prudent, as this, an image of a car being showered by a carbon hose to ensure that the capacitor did not catch fire. Lelouch pressed his thumb and forefinger into his two cheeks and let out a breath.

"Remove the battery, check the computer with the Electronics team. What does the tachometer say?"

Another mechanic hunched over a chunky laptop, replied "Fourteen revolutions per minute peak. I can try calling the electrician-"

"No, and I'll be honest, but I don't really care a great deal to summon the electricians down here. I want this engine cranking, in fact I want it cranking yesterday. Do you have a manual crank handle?"

The six other people in the room paused, and stared at Lelouch. After a moment, the man over the laptop stuck his neck out and asked "What do you want to do?"

"I want to sit on it and spin, what do you think I'd use a crank handle for? We're starting it manually."

The man stood up from his computer, and, after pausing again, said "Well, it's over there, but I don't know-"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, as Lelouch, as soon as his employee pointed him to the handle, threw aside his crutch and speedwalked over to it. Picking it up with his good hand, he used the blunt end of it to form a makeshift crutch to hobble his way back across to the car. He had the room at his attention, and after taking a moment to scowl at them, Lelouch flipped the handle and slotted it into the entry shaft below the exhaust.

"Lelouch, I still don't get what's going to be different-"

"Indeed." Lelouch replied, standing up above the handle to turn and face the person who spoke. "You don't. Your job is incredibly specialised. It's about engine design, management, installation, and repair. You know engines inside out and upside down. And the electricians know the battery and ERS system just as well. It's why you're the ones doing this and not me. But to get as good as ye have gotten, ye have had to get really, really specialised in your fields. You don't know what's happening in the other areas, because it isn't your job. And, moreover, it isn't mine. My job is to listen to whatever you, the electricians, the chassis folks, and so on have to say and make decisions and directives based on it. I'm not as technically knowledgeable as either you or the electrics team. But I hear from both, which is the point."

Lelouch caught his breath, before continuing.

"The batteries discharge very quickly, as when it extends it earths. It seems it can't crank and ignite the spark plug at the same time, it's just too much. I'll get the electrics crew to see what they can do about it later, but for now we need to see if this engine works or if it's a dud, and we can't wait for the electronics team to resolve this issue to find that out. We're going to crank it manually."

The man, a Belgian rocking a shirt with rolled up sleeves and tattoo's in the height of his early twenties, nodded and looked back to his computer. Pushing his glasses back towards his brow, he replied "Yeah, that seems grand. Right, who do you want-"

Once again though, he was not allowed to finish, as Lelouch, growing impatient, bent his knees down, putting himself into a low squat before, forearms pointed upwards, before he then used his thighs to push the handle up and try to rotate it.

"Sir!" cried out another engineer. "You're injured!"

Lelouch let out a terse breath, before hissing "You're welcome to pitch in."

Immediately, sense struck the engineers, and they all ran over to try and rotate the pole, grabbing onto its extremities and pushing it as hard as they could. As the heavy pistons built momentum, Lelouch hissed "You, Belgian, back to the computer. Get the spark plugs going when we've got good revolution speed."

He did so, and they gradually built up speed, more with the power of their legs than their arms. Just as Lelouch's thighs felt fit to burst though, the Belgian signalled "The revs are good, we can spark!"

Seeing Lelouch was about to faint, the woman to his left yelled to do it, and so it was. The noise of the spark plugs started up again, but this time it stayed, and within moments the force required to rotate the engine evaporated, and as the throttle was digitally manipulated, it began to get away from them and rotate beyond the speed they could move their arms. All of them, eager to keep their arms attached to their torso, let go and leapt back immediately, and, with confirmation that no one was still gripping onto the end of the crankshaft, the Belgian digitally revved up the engine, and, sure as Lelouch stood there, it roared into life.

Well, roared was perhaps generous, and Lelouch suspected that there may be more than one injector which was not operative, not dissimilar to how Kallen's engine lost power over the 2017 Brazilian Grand Prix. However, it was at least progress.

Turning to the engineers, he commented "I'll call the other workers into the main hall to see us fire up. Take a spot of pride, that's a major hurdle cleared. Let me know when you're finished diagnostics."

* * *

Hostile as Naoto was, over the next few days he proved that, even after his 2017 accident, he had lost none of his lustre, and even seemed to have picked up the edge on Tohdoh after all these years; by day three, people were noticing that the introverted elder Kōzuki was conducting himself bullishly on track, which each day finding that Kōzuki's fastest time was higher than Tohdoh's. It seemed that the more passive Tohdoh who let the car roll through corners to maintain optimal grip was not gelling with these new tyres, finding them very hard to keep in high temperature ranges.

Kallen, from the pits, watched on the CRT monitor as Naoto barrelled up to the back straight, with the car, having had no lead driver to direct its development for some time before Tohdoh was brought onboard, Naoto only arriving at the last minute, being quite the halfway house between last years squat aggressiveness and the previous years' sloped, low drag concept. It looked an uncomfortable bastard child, and there was perhaps no better pilot for that than one of two illegitimate siblings.

Of course, several days later Kallen was still stunned at his recovery. It had been happening in her peripheral vision of course; by Silverstone 2017 he could attend races with a crutch, by Brazil he could fly, and by the start of the 2018 he had begun training to get back to fitness. As he had withdrawn, particularly after she had wrested control of Rebellion out of Tohdoh's hands, which had given him perspective, he had knuckled back down to work. At any rate, even if his more recent actions demonstrated he was no shrinking violet when dealing with his sister and in no sense humbled, he certainly was emboldened in his relationship with Tohdoh and the team at large, setting the marker down early to try and say, as if by smoke signal, that they should back him as the number one driver, as they had Tohdoh when they were last together.

However, the fight between them would be over what ultimately amounted to P4. Xingke's pace that Kallen had been blindsided by hadn't faded, and indeed he only seemed to be getting more and more into his groove, solidifying his status as the clear favourite. It could not even be pinned to his all-conquering car, as Zhou Xianglin was still putting in the times she had on the first day, hitting a brick wall that was seeing her be overtaken by both Camelots and Rebellions, with Xingke's countrywoman having to settle for sixth, with Xingke up front, Kallen ahead of Gino, and Naoto ahead of Tohdoh, as the animals didn't quite line up two by two.

No, it wasn't the car. It was certainly a step up from years previous, but it was undeniable that Xingke was just stupid fast on these tyres.

As Kallen got more and more comfortable in the car, especially given how much it was designed for two drivers who were not her, becoming able to drive around its inherent mannerisms and traits, she built up the pace to at least leapfrog one of the Geely's, cementing a firm second place. Gino was a few tenths clear of the Rebellions, which kept him in third, which would become second when the second shoe dropped; she wouldn't be racing until Malaysia, three races into the season, for as convinced as Camelot were of her sincerity, the FIA imposed punishment stood, and she would be forced to sit out the first two weekends, handing her seat over to Anya Alstreim, who had dominated F2 after Kallen had been called up to the big league, and was Camelot's official reserve driver. She would be down two races before she even turned a wheel.

None of this would serve to dispirit Kallen, of course; she wasn't keeping it rattling around in her mind for reasons of fatalism. But she was on the back foot, she would already have ground to make up, and if Kallen knew anything, it was that the back foot was the position she knew how to fight from best.

Kallen finished her tea, and looked out over the grandstand, noticing it emptying. Curious, she stepped out of her garage, the place having closed up for the night, to look at the still-alight camera projections at the end of the straight. A number of lorries, unmarked, were pulling in across the way, projected onto the cinema screen in full size, as folks gathered round, cameras flashing brilliantly. Kallen saw who was standing at the front of the crowd, and couldn't quite believe it.

Four days into testing, and long past the point that Kallen, as well as most of the paddock, stopped believing it would happen, it did.

Lelouch Lamperouge had arrived.

* * *

 **We did it! We got to pre-season testing, even if Lelouch was a little late. Hopefully this chapter was up to par, but of course, what am I saying? You can (and should) let me know in the reviews, which are genuinely helpful from both a motivating point of view, what's working and not working, and any hanging threads you're confused about. Thank you so much, and be safe.  
**

 **~G1ll3s**


	41. OK41 - Back In The Saddle

**OK Number 41 - Back in the Saddle**

* * *

"Hello everyone, back at home, and welcome to what can only be described as the coldest place in the world. I've been wearing t-shirts and shorts all day, as one does in Spain, in over 20 degree heat, however, if my lovely camera assistant can point her lens at the sky… yea, there we go, there is absolutely no cloud cover, which is great if you want clear, uninterrupted running, without rain, however, the downside is that as soon as the sun goes down, all the heat, sorry, camera back towards the ground… yeah, there you go, to the tarmac, get my socks and sandals combo in the shot of good measure, why not… anyway, yeah, all the heat, captured in this black tarmac, and in the air, just evaporates, and shoots up, with no replacement, which means that as soon as it goes dark, the temperature drops to a few blips below zero. I'm getting goosebumps, so I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I'm making, risking an entire cold, to bring you this summing up, of the first week of pre season testing, a week which has seen the established order shaken up quite a bit, as we learn what everyone's been up to over the last few months."

Diethard waved his arm in front of his chest energetically, before hopping about in front of the camera lens. He was unbelievably pumped, having spent much of the winter months excitedly awaiting the season to start again, and was ready to visibly communicate his palpable energy. He shivered and vibrated, before getting back on track and continuing his monologue.

"However, however… we're recording this on… maybe quarter past… teeeenn… on the Friday evening, you'll be watching Saturday morning while you're having your breakfast… or lunch if you're that kind of person, but we must say, before anything else, well done to Schwarzenritter. Well, well done for actually getting a car on track for the last day of testing. They've had a really torrid time to get here, but they are here, arriving… well, yesterday for us, which will become two days ago when this is aired, but they made it, which is fantastic. Rosenberg is among the last of the historic independent teams, designing cars without manufacturer support, and Lloyd Asplund is as familiar a sight in this paddock as you'll see."

Pausing, Diethard briefly stopped his energetic, shifting motions, underlining the severity of his point. ASEEC pulling out was emblematic of the issues with the sport, that it cost immense wads of money to be competitive, and how it was pricing out some of the sports old heroes. However, the story did at least have a happy ending, as he was quick to explain.

"It seemed… back in the wonderful time that was late 2018, that the gig was up for Asplunds little undertaking, and that we would be starting the next season with one of the most storied factories having closed it doors, BUT- it has not. Lelouch Lamperouge- yes, _that_ Lelouch Lamperouge, has provided the team a lifeline, having managed to put together a rescue package and ensure that all the engineers are not put on the welfare line. This should be good news for every fan of this sport."

He paused again to underline a point, though this time it was to highlight its excellence as opposed to its negativity. He had punched the air the day he had read the headline, and then again last night when they turned up, proving that the team was not dead. It was an incredibly wholesome story, particularly from a driver who wasn't known for his wholesome deeds as much as his cut-throat calculations.

However, everyone had come together, from Lelouch for masterminding the whole affair, to Kaguya for funding it, to Suzaku for starting the administration procedures, the whole group had pulled through the disaster, with care and a focus on ensuring that the car could be on the grid for this season and that no one lost their jobs.

But sentimentality could only be milked for so long. Diethard had to move on, and so, focusing his attention back to the broadcast, he moved back to the trackside proceedings.

"However, all of this is detailing what unfolded off track. What actually happened… here? In Barcelona? Well, let's catch ye all up. What is the happening in F1? Who is going to be on the pace this year? Well… now first off, I must advise against rampant speculation about the effects of pre-season testing, as they are often deceiving, but having said that, lets rampantly speculate about the effects of pre-season testing, shall we? Well, who has the pace of the field? Rebellion? Camelot? It sure isn't Schwarzenritter, that's for sure. Nope! None of the above! You get no points, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred pounds, because it's Xingke's Geely! Who saw that coming? Well, we're about to show you an interview that I did earlier with the Luoyang-born driver, who… well I don't think he expected it anymore than we did. Let's have a look."

Diethard was silent, as he took the microphone away from his face and watched the screen held parallel to the camera, flipped towards him so he could watch the interview as it would be edited in and start talking again as it ended, effectively watching along with the people at home to whom this would be broadcasted.

The screen flipped to a sweaty Li Xingke, wiping his wet face before looking towards the camera. Diethard was just out of frame, behind and to the left of the camera, facing towards Xingke and conducting the interview with the camera functionally representing his point of vision, still near enough to Xingke to extend the microphone to his face.

Diethard, who had just called the Chinese driver over, kicked off the interview just beyond the shot, noting "You've had a good time of it in testing so far. What do you think has been the big change to the car that's hopped you up in both speed and confidence?"

Xingke paused, thinking through the translation in his head, before nodding and answering, though with some hesitance.

"With the new… two carcass tyres, I think it suits… my style, bit more. I'm not sure the compounds… the compounds themselves are a great deal… harder or softer, you know, just less sensitive to hot or cold... Before, if you were caught behind another car, the… the hot… hot air, I'm sorry, coming off them would not only hurt your grip, but it would overheat our tyres. I'm hoping we can race better, race closer together… I'm hoping that's the case at least. This has just been testing, I've haven't had to pitch it around the outside of another car in anger yet."

Diethard nodded, allowing the brief summation a bit of room to breath before he went back in, elaborating "That should be the case for sure, though as you say, you've not been doing much wheel to wheel action. I guess, if I could nail it down, what is it about the car, whether it be the tyres and such, has proven to be of most benefit to you, what has helped you get this leapfrog? What's true about you that isn't true about the other drivers?"

Xingke opened his mouth and nodded, realising what Diethard was asking, before pausing to think of an answer. After a while, he shrugged and replied "This years car and tyre combination, as soon as I turned a wheel, I thought 'Wow, okay this is great pace.' I thought that would move us up from maybe tenth to fourth or fifth. Turns out I underestimated the pace, but it definitely was a morale booster to come back in and realise I had a second in hand. I guess I had just assumed that everyone was finding these tyres as intuitive as I was. But the car was definitely a great great platform to use them aboard, we've definitely made a great conduit that I can use with the tyres provided to us, it makes it really easy and comfortable from the word go."

"So what do you think is the reason your teammate isn't able to capitalise on this great great platform? What advice would you give?"

This was far easier for Xingke to answer, as he broke into a wry grin, before answering cautiously, though still with a slight humour; "Well… you don't give unsolicited advice to your teammate if you can help it. You don't even give solicited advice, if you can. They're your biggest and most direct rival, and I don't want to empower my rival any more than Kallen wants to empower Suzaku. If I were to think of something… use the brakes less, use the accelerator more."

"Last question, because I know you'll want to be off somewhere pretty soon; could this be the year you finally put that title bid to bed?"

Keeping his knowing grin, the pilot raised an eyebrow and replied "I don't think I could tell you that seven races in, let alone right now. There's still plenty of time to find a way to bugger this up."

The interview ended there, and Diethard saw it was his cue as soon as the screen went blank, launching straight back into presenter mode.

"So a lot to look forward to. I'm going to ramble around this paddock for a while longer before the camera assistant gets a phone call telling us to pack it in, so lets hope we can cover all the interesting stuff before that happens. How long do you reckon it'll take?"

The response took a few moments, mainly for the camerawoman to realise Diethard was talking to her and not to the viewing public, as she piped up, volume a tad reduced as she tried to manage the weight of the bulky shooting apparatus.

"Maybe half an hour before I get a buzz asking where we've run off to."

Diethard laughed, before replying "I bet we'll make it a whole hour before they descend on us. It matters not; forward!"

* * *

After a weekend where she was juggling simulator work, feedback on trialed parts, and goofing off with Gino in their articulated lorry, which served as their mobile home on what was, for Gino at least, a glorified booze cruise.

Kallen, while she did enjoy a few whiskey miniatures on the Friday, abstained on the Saturday and Sunday, eager to make good on her wintertime promises of a determined, no nonsense championship run, focused and free of vices in the mould Suzaku had exemplified.

Reduce alcohol, rest early, keep calm, and document fatigue. Kallen's sessions with Euphemia had provided some good strategies to improve both temperament, fatigue, and concentration. She definitely felt some benefit, though only time could tell if it would be enough to put her over the hump.

After all, it was not the end of the season yet. It wasn't Malaysia, where her ban was lifted and she would be able to return to racing. It wasn't even the first race yet; Australia, three weeks from the day winter testing ended. It was the Monday of the second week of winter testing, which spanned two five day weeks. Beyond two hours allocated for filming and advertising, testing and driving of the cars was strictly regulated, and so these ten days were of paramount value.

However, these ten days did not commence as soon as the clocks struck 00:01 and conclude at the end of the eleventh hour; testing could only happen between nine o'clock am and six o'clock pm, with a one hour mandatory break at midday.

This was all in the interests of throttling the data available to teams, which the rulemakers hoped would limit the amount of development they could do and hence the costs accrued in developing new parts pursuant to that data. And while this was noble (though, notably, it had not saved Rosenberg), it also gave Kallen, and indeed all the other driver, some time after breakfast to relax.

Normally, she spent this on social media. Other drivers spent this time in different ways; Naoto was determined the develop his leg precision, and in every free moment tried to extend his streak of keepie-uppies. Tohdoh appeared to have taken up smoking, perhaps less productive but it was hardly as if Kallen had a particularly high regard for her countryman, having beaten him in her debut season.

However, she would not be doing any of this this morning, as there was something more important to be attended to. Lelouch had arrived on Thursday evening, and she had been called in to do night work which meant that she was not able to see him on Friday morning, and as soon as Friday testing had ended Lelouch had driven off to a nearby hotel.

This Monday morning was her first chance she had to see him, and try to make a second attempt to reconcile, as well as to decipher why he had made the public apology that had gotten her the seat, the public apology she had not by that point asked for, nor was he particularly, given the circumstances, obliged to give.

She looked across the pitlane to ensure there weren't any cars crossing the way, before she ran out of her garage, open but not in use, and went across to the pit wall, where race engineers, team directors and strategists sat to watch the trackside action. Sitting out of the garage and up at the pit wall was definitely quite the privilege, and sure as knew Kallen layout and intricacies of the Circuit de Monte Carlo, she knew that Lelouch's ego would demand that he sit at the most prestigious of seats within a team.

And sure enough, there he was, with his left hand, sipping at a coffee while surveying a screen, displaying printed sheets. Not wanting to be accused of being engaging in industrial espionage, though given the rudimentary car that Schwarzenritter-Lamperouge was fielding, she could hardly be accused of wanting to steal any secrets from, she made a point of looking away from the screen as she approached the black-haired Frenchman from behind.

"Lelouch?"

She spoke softly, but with reasonable volume, to try and get his attention while not presenting herself as a threat or in any way hostile. However, he didn't turn, and so had to resort to tapping him on the shoulder. This didn't work either; nerve damage, Kallen realised after a moments thought, and so she sighed and resorted to a slightly elevated "Excuse me…"

He finally put his coffee down on his desk and turned his chair around. The first edges of his face looked relaxed, likely expecting a briefing from one of his various departments on what was planned for that day, but as his eyes made the turn about to sight what it was that had caught his attention, they narrowed. He stopped turning his seat, mid rotation, and instead shifted his body to face towards Kallen more actively, visibly put more on edge.

He face became more terse, his lips becoming tight and thin as his eyes scattered across her form. He seemed to need to take a few moment to collect his breathing before asking, in a brief and tight manner, the question etched into his face.

"What do you want?"

Kallen, not quite sure what she actually wanted, punted and said "I wanted to see how you are…"

"How I am…?" Lelouch snorted. "Well, I can answer that. How am I? I'm busy. Maintenant dégage."

Sighing, Kallen shook her head and apologised, commenting "Look, I'm sorry for what happened."

However, Lelouch cut her off, hissing "You say that as if you didn't make it happen. Like, 'Oop, I'm sorry to hear that your dog died.' or something like that. That you're sorry it happened would do if you weren't literally the person who bloody did it. Dégage, go away."

Kallen frowned, letting her gaze fall. She hadn't chosen the right words, and tried to rephrase her complex emotions.

"Look, I should never have done what I did. I feel horrible, but who gives a toss how I feel. You've got to live with the consequences of my temper, and it's just horrifying to see that I can do that. If I could go back and meet the me from that time, I'd give them a good slap."

"Still resolving things with violence then."

Gaahhh! So typical of Lelouch to twist her words and try to play difficult, god, it brought her blood beyond the boil to plasma to hear him using her own words to make her out to be a thuggish villain. He knew she hadn't meant it, her just wanted to see her squirm.

"No, that's not…" Kallen responded, gnashing her teeth before pausing for lack of words, before sighing and starting again. "Look, I can't undo it. Kuso, I wish that was in my power, but it isn't. I know how much my actions have impacted your life-"

"Do you?"

Kallen frowned, looking puzzled at Lelouch before he shook his head and repeated himself.

"Do you really understand what impact this has had?"

Kallen, not sure where this was going, did not respond, as Lelouch, now growing angry, sat forward and, wielding his one good arm, waved and shook it as he spoke.

"I… I woke up this morning with a migraine. A year ago, I'd have shrugged it off. Happens to everyone. But not this morning, because todays migraine is the same migraine I had yesterday. It's the same migraine I've had for almost four months, since I woke up in hospital. It's the same migraine that my doctor says I will have until I die. Until I'm dead, until I'm in the dirt. I woke up this morning and fell over when I went to stand up. I had to get Rolo to pick me up and sit me down. I need to use a cane to walk, or else I'm liable to collapse due to instability. My mental compass is… completely warped. I'll have to use a cane until I die, with my left arm. I can't use my right arm, which until last year was my dominant side, either, because I can't move it anymore. The nerve linkages have been shaken off. They won't reattach. If I'm walking, I can't hold anything. If I need to write something, I need to call an assistant. Same goes for typing for extended lengths of time. I can't shower on my own, and I have only just learned to feed myself. Does any of this move you at all?"

Kallen sighed, letting her facial features droop as she watched Lelouch deliver her indictment, knowing he was entirely correct, but it was more than that. Lelouch seemed dishevelled, running short of breath by the end of his tract, aggrieved, exasperated, and, more than anything else, weary. His words were angry, and while this was met by his face, it was not the only message conveyed by it. There was exhaustion, fear, pain, and more than a tinge of embarrassment. Kallen had not intended to induce any of these, either when she had pulled aside in Brazil to 'have a word', or now, when she had walked up to the pit wall. She didn't know what she intended, but it was hardly as if that mattered. However, her past actions did not preclude any present or future actions.

Risking being thrown out, she spoke up, asking "Yes, but what can I do? Practically, can I do anything to alleviate that? Look, if I've learned anything, anything at all, over the last few months, it's that I am an idiot. I don't know what needs to be done to make this better, but if you tell me, then I will do it. I'll do it eagerly."

Lelouch angrily shrugged, sighing back "There isn't always something you can do. There's always instances where you've got no way to win, or improve your situation. It just is."

"Perhaps not to...fix it" Kallen snapped, shaking her head, before she, with a pause to make a point of emphasis "Though, if you need any money to pay for care… mate, I'm ready to help out in that way, but is there any way we can mend this? I know as well as hurting you physically… I mean, I can see it on you, you tensed up when you saw me, I mean, can I do anything to mitigate the emotional stuff? I don't want what we had back at Rebellion, but whatever it was… working together, trying to help one another out, being able to interact reasonably comfortably… I don't want my presence or existence to cause such pain, what can I do to help in that capacity?"

Lelouch just shook his head, making Kallen frustrated, enough to ask "But you said that you had forgiven me, in that press conference? Surely that gives us a platform of some sort to work from?"

Kallen expected a range of possible responses, but Lelouch chose the 'None of the above' option, completely surprising her by laughing. Even in spite of his injuries, he delivered a howling belly laugh, slapping his knee and finding the whole thing quite hilarious.

Nonplussed, Kallen could only watch as Lelouch finally quieted down and, breathless, wheezed "That… press conference? That… Oh heavens. I hope you understand that that press conference was a formality. It changes nothing. I must say this, you're as credulous as ever. Did I strike you as the sincere sort? An honest, upstanding gentleman? You're the person who believed I conspired to get you disqualified from the Abu Dhabi qualifying, or was malicious at Brazil, so have you changed your mind suddenly and decided to believe me out of nowhere? Well? What do you think of me?"

Kallen didn't understand, however Lelouch was eager to elaborate. Clearing his throat, he continued "If you believe I'm genuine, you wouldn't have stalked me up the Abu Dhabi pit lane or smash my face in at Brazil. If you believe that I am a snake, as your brother believes I am, then you wouldn't believe my apology was anything other than a means to get an advantage. You can't believe both. Then again, I'm told your brother and you aren't getting on. It's a shame, couldn't have happened to a nicer person."

The jab at her fractured relationship with her brother rankled, however she let it slide. There was one more question, that downright puzzled her. She asked in almost a pleading voice "If it was to help you get a leg up, how did it do that? What is it all for?"

"What do I owe you an explanation for? Why the hell do you think I owe you anything other than a restraining order? Now piss off before I call security."

* * *

 **Lelouch pulling no punches here, nor ought he. While when I wrote this I was not aware of how accurate my writing of his injuries would be, however ironically I can now confirm it is this bad. Fortunately, mine subsided within the first month at least with regards to head traums, however it was explained to me it was possible that it would last for decades. Turns out the stuff I write happens to me about four months later.**

 **Though this leads to the question of why I am not an F1 driver yet. Damnit McLaren, my Twitter DM's are always open!**

 **But anyway. Xingke is fast. Tyres aren't temperature sensetive. Lelouch is angry. Tohdoh smokes. I'm trying to find a good way to end this chapter.**

 **Ah, sod it. Leave a review if you're feeling kind, let me know how my writing is going, and have a good week.**

 **~G1ll3s**


	42. OK42 - Mission Control

**OK Number 42 - Mission Control**

* * *

The view from the position where Lelouch had threatened to call security on Kallen in Spain three weeks ago was not so different to the view he enjoyed now, overlooking his cars driving out of the garages in Melbourne. The number seven of Suzaku Kururugi and three of Rolo Lamperouge left in a line of stern, making their way round a sighting lap to the grid. Suzaku was understated, head down, no wheelspin, no doubt pleased to be in a position to defend his championship. Rolo, eager to impress, was a mirror of his teammate at least in the sense of being undramatic, with not a squeal nor a hint of tyre smoke to be detected.

However, Lelouch saw in the cars mannerisms and Rolo's body language while sat in the car, head up, looking about the place, not quite having being in the right headspace, likely due to nerves. Lelouch watched them drive out of the pit lane, before they turned right to begin their counterclockwise parade lap. Once they were out of view, Lelouch faced back towards the front straight parallel to the pitlane, determined to get the team off to the right start. Lelouch, of course, was wired him to the team communications and radio system, as well as being able to tune certain divisions in and out as required.

He would have the best seat in the house.

But Lelouch put this out of his mind. It was possibly one of his best traits; the ability to cloud out distractions and focus exclusively on the goals to be achieved. He had a team to manage, and he had noticed, right off the bat, that one of his drivers needed a confidence boost.

As his radar showed the two cars heading up to Whiteford, the second of four chicanes, Lelouch pressed R2 on his control panel, below the keyboard, to activate the communications with Rolo.

"Rolo, it's your first Grand Prix, so good luck. You're a damn sight more talented than I was when I first sat in an F1 car, so you shouldn't have any problems. Just keep an eye on what's going on around you. Keep your brakes and tyres in a good temperature range over this sighting lap, and don't overcook it into turn one. You're already up to pace in the car, so just do what's natural once the melee has fizzled out. Godspeed. We'll see you at the first pitstop."

Lelouch released the button, and focused back on the radar. The cars on the front row were just now rounding the Ascari corner at the beginning of the last sector, as the two Schwarzenritters moved through the fast third chicane of nine and ten. He breathed in and out, sensing the tightness in his chest as he muscled fresh oxygen into it, on the back of the force of his throat and lungs. He could hardly say that his brother was the only one with performance anxiety.

Again, however, he put it out of his mind, watching the first cars completing the parade lap and coming up to the starting grid as they came into view, fading in from the vanishing point just past the last turn.

The first to shimmer into visibility, having seized Pole position, was Li Xingke, having taken the first position in qualifying for the first time in his Formula 1 career. Next came the pink prototype of Gino Weinberg, followed by Zhou Xianglin, who lined up directly behind her teammate on the two by two grid layout. It definitely seemed that the Geelys were now at the sharp end of the grid, particularly given that testing could be deceptive in terms of indicating prospective pace, but it seemed their dominant display wasn't a play to attract sponsors; they were just that OP, split only by the Camelot.

Gino's teammate came next, occupying the back of the second row, though it was not Kallen Kozuki, who while contracted to the team, still had a ban imposed until Malaysia, which superseded any contract. It was a good thing too, as Lelouch knew from driving alongside her that she would have proven an absolute weapon.

Lelouch had never been able to pin down what exactly it was, which upon reflection was probably why he had never become a seriously competitive driver, but for whatever reason Kallen fell into a stupor when delivering one, single banging lap, and the longer she was out of the picture, for both the teams health and his health.

In her place was Anya Alstreim, who was the F2 champion and about as tall as an eleven year old, whom was just ahead of the two Rebellions, who locked out the third row of the grid to themselves, Naoto ahead of Tohdoh.

It wasn't until the eighth placed starter of Villetta Nu rounded the turn that Lelouch finally caught a view of the first of his drivers, the more experienced Suzaku Kururugi, who had made it into Q3 in the teams debut race, let the car slide up the front straight towards the fifth row. Watching the black and matte red car smoothly progress up the road, Lelouch radioed to Suzaku to note "Be sure to keep your tyres warm, good luck."

Suzaku responded with a brief "Yup.", clearly trying to focus on the task at hand, and just as he moved towards his starting position, his teammate, and Lelouch's brother, came into view, the twelfth car along having filtered back over his outlap. Lelouch was reasonably satisfied with this, particularly the short time in which the car was built compared to the competition, and even shorter time in which it was convened and designed, being penned and modelled in under two weeks, fuelled by consecutive sleepless nights and an IV drip feeding Lloyd a constant flow of coffee. The car would take a good bit of development to leap up to the sharp end, which Lelouch estimated would take until the midway point of the season to transpire, assuming the cash flow remained a constant.

And so, as the last few runners moved into their grid positions, Lelouch concluded that they should be pleased with them, but, as the red lights flashed up on his screen, his attention was once again diverted back to the start.

Counting up, it was one light, two lights, three lights, four lights, five red lights, holding, going, going goi- gone! The lights, not waiting a moment to fade as soon as all five were lit, put an immediate start to the race. Xingke got a worldly start, but Lelouch was laser focused on his drivers.

Suzaku got a reasonable start, tyres perhaps a bit cold but otherwise unobjectionable. Rolo, however, had his revs too high and span up the rear wheels, similarly facing cool tyres. His problems were compounded by his attempts, once the clutch was dropped, to lower the throttle input. While the tyres did grip up, the torque required to haul the car forward spiked suddenly, bogging the engine down. Eventually, the computer gave up and engaged the anti-stall, taking over the throttle for a moment until Rolo was finally brought up to speed.

Of course, he only got up to speed four or five seconds after everyone else around him, and he sank like a stone through the field, getting swallowed up by the cars around him, who were closing with rapid speed. By the first corner, he had slipped from twelfth to sixteenth.

"Ach, merde, the… the clutch, putain!"

Lelouch impassively stared into the radar, not responding, almost aloof as the sun blazed down as he tried to find a solution to this problem. It was not so dissimilar to when he was in the hot seat, only this time there were far fewer distractions, such as that of not crashing, keeping up the pace, and so on.

So, the fact scenario at hand. Suzaku, having gotten into the third qualifying session, was mandated to start on the tyres he set his fastest lap in Q2 on, however Rolo had started on the hard tyres, which could last until a good way into the race. Similarly, all the cars between Suzaku and Rolo were on softs, except Albert Darlton at the helm of his B.A.R-Yggdrasil, who was on mediums. They would all be pitting a long time before Rolo did.

Furthermore, like Monaco and like Hungary, Albert Park was quite the challenging track to overtake on, though not for the same reasons. Whereas Monaco was too slow and narrow, and Hungary featured corners of far too long a radius, neither was the case at Melbourne, with very angular corners which were taken at high speed. In fact, therein lay the central issue; it was too fast.

More specifically, there were very few hard braking events over the course of a lap where people could try to outbrake the car in front, and the corner preceding the tracks only long straight was not conducive to a chasing car attempting to close up.

In essence, if there was a car trying to hold the pack up, it would not at all have a hard time doing so.

Immediately, he began to form in his head the race strategy, though unlike previously, he would have to verbalise it to others as and when the situation changed, as opposed to simply doing it himself. First, to Rolo. His finger jammed the radio button as he spoke firmly.

"Conserve these tyres, you will be going long and blasting them towards the end of your stint, do not take life out of them now."

After Rolo confirmed he had received and understood this message, Lelouch then moved to Suzaku and confirmed the plan on his side of the garage.

"Push now Suzaku, push, you will be trying to get an undercut on the cars ahead and get off these softs early."

With the strategy locked in, Lelouch sat back, with his trademarked scowl intact. This was definitely the part of the whole team manager business that he had not envied, and indeed did not, now that he was in it, enjoy; the conduct of the race was out of his hand. He had to trust others to handle things, had to ensure that they would perform in a high risk situation. For as long as he could remember, even when he was homeless and looking after Nunnally's medical condition, he would not have dared to even contemplate delegating it until it was unfeasible, and even then it hurt him deeply to do. What if they messed it up? The only person he knew he could depend on was himself, and yet he was having to depend on the two drivers to pull it off.

God he was nervous.

However, wish as he might, there wasn't anything he could do about it but rely on others to drive the cars, which they were very much doing. Rolo appeared to be at sea, in something of a no-mans-land between the back of the midfield cars and the front of the backmarkers, however Suzaku was out proving why he had won the championship, hounding the rear of Nu like a wild dog. But, predictably, he couldn't get past.

This, however, would not be an issue.

Suzaku reported tyre wear, and in particular heavy degradation on the front right, on lap seventeen, maybe three laps before it was predicted that most people would stop. Eager to seize the undercut, lapping on a fresher tyre for several minutes before those around him and gaining time over them before they pitted as well, Lelouch called Suzaku in, and once again had to trust others to do their job. After all, it was hardly as if he was healthy enough to man a jack or a wheel gun.

However, he had at least trusted pit crew before while he was a driver, so at least his nerves were kept to a manageable level as Suzaku trundled in towards the pit box, which given that this was the first year of the teams existence and participation in F1 was the last one in the line of constructors.

Thankfully, the pitstop was performed beautifully, the crew almost forming a single fluid organ, expanding and contracting around the car like a muscle. While the car was only finished with a few weeks to go, the pit crew did not have to wait for the car to be finished to start practicing, and indeed it could have well been because of these delays that they had emerged as one of the fastest crews on the grid, having been training for months.

It was only as it had finally stopped that the crew were finished and ready to send the car off again. It was just over two seconds in the box, and it finally put the trace of a smile within a few postcodes of Lelouch's face. Now on hards, Suzaku made his way out, reaching the end of the pitlane within a few meters and putting the foot to the floor. Briefly discouraged, Lelouch radioed across to Suzaku "You're taking these tyres to the end. Push for the next two or three laps to get the undercut, but once the pitstops have shaken out go to conserve. Go to full battery deployment and mode eleven on fuel flow, lets get it."

With the commands delivered, Lelouch looked back at the radar. Suzaku had fallen back, though it should shuffle out that he was about where he had been, but, most importantly, Rolo had not been an entire pitstop behind, and now was a good ways ahead of Suzaku, far enough ahead that he wouldn't compromise his undercut.

Immediately, Suzaku began putting in purple sectors, gaining relative time on the people he had been chasing, having two laps of clean air before the pit lane busied. Nu and Bradley, who had been ahead of Suzaku, and almost everyone who was behind him bar Albert Darlton.

Lelouch leaned out of and over the desk, careful to prop his good arm against the catch fence before he stuck his head out to watch Suzaku pass. He caught Suzaku just rounding the last corner as cars were leaving their boxes, tyres changed. They were still ahead, but Suzaku would be much faster on the run into the first corner.

Sure enough, Suzaku blasted past the cars leaving the pits, who had a standing start as opposed to Suzaku who had had a massive build up- and he was ahead! The undercut had worked, and Suzaku had jumped Nu and Bradley, with the others behind him as well.

Satisfied, Lelouch repeated his instruction to Suzaku, with some elaboration.

"Suzaku, it's Lelouch. You've done a great job, now conserve these tyres and don't let anyone behind you through unless they're lapping you. The cars ahead of you on track are too fast to chase down, just focus on keeping this position."

Suzaku seemed miffed by this, but was at least obedient, clearly wanting to take on the frontrunners, but too strait-laced and professional to vocalise his frustration. Pleased that his driver was observing his instructions, Lelouch watched the comparative times like a hawk.

Xingke was just checking out up front, having an entire pitstops advantage over Gino in second. Naoto was in mans land as well, trailed five whole seconds after by Tohdoh and Xianglin, who seemed to be having a fairly tight battle, with Alstreim just two seconds behind them.

Then there was a brief gap to Rolo, who was the highest driver yet to stop, then a short gap to Suzaku, who was acting as a dam to what was now four cars snapping at his heels. If Rolo pitted now, he would come out where he had been before the pit stop, far behind this gaggle of five to six cars and then some.

However, Rolo would not be pitting now. He would not be pitting for quite some time.

As Lelouch looked back from the track to the LCD screen showing the timings, Lelouch was pleased to see that, with Suzaku holding back to save his tyres, Rolo was now pulling a gap to the cars behind, building it up from a second, to two seconds, to more as the race progressed. If it built up to twenty seconds, Rolo would effectively leap from sixteenth to eighth, ahead of Suzaku in ninth. A double points finish, in their first race, one in which one of their drivers had an apocalyptically bad start?

He'd take it. He would eat his vegetables and smile while doing it.

However, Rolo was not pulling away at quite the rate Lelouch would have liked. It was only something like a few tenths per lap, and now, on the radio, Suzaku was beginning to ask questions.

"When can I stretch my legs? The tyres are cold a ice and they're getting closer to making a move. If I don't pick it up we'll lose a place."

Lelouch was now faced with a decision. Rolo was not far enough ahead to pit and come out ahead of this group, so did he preserve Suzaku's high position by allowing him to push, or did he risk Suzaku being swallowed up to try and bite off the most amount of points theoretically on the table?

And get his brother up as high as possible, this was unavoidably a factor.

He came to a decision quite quickly in the end, coming back onto the radio within moments.

"Negative, keep conserving tyres. It's difficult to overtake on this track, so do not lose any positions. Keep going."

Suzaku affirmed, though not without a certain gruffness to his voice. Lelouch glanced at the timings to see what the gap was; twelve seconds, and Rolo's tyres were reaching the end of their life, having been on the Frenchmans car for over forty five laps.

However, there was a loud bang at the start of the straight, which caught Lelouch's attention. It was less of an firey explosion and more of a pneumatic pop, though its source was not known to Lelouch until it rolled out from behind the pitlane around the last corner, without a wheel and steering, instead slowly slowing in a straight line towards the wall. Looking at his mirror of the broadcast, it seemed as if the tyre of the wounded car, who proved to be Zhou Xianglin, had experienced sudden delamination while trying to navigate the last corner. Lelouch watched further to see how it happened as yellow flags were waved. The driver just behind Zhou, Tohdoh, made his way round the last corner a bit more successfully, and Lelouch watched as he streaked past.

Tohdoh hammered the brakes, which was his mistake; as soon as load was placed on the front tyres, they blew, and Lelouch could only watch as the Japanese champion speared off left and into the wall. Lelouch was amazed, both at the dramatic accident and the coincidence of two tyre failures in twenty seconds. However, before Lelouch could digest this, the yellow LED indicator above his screen flashed.

It said 'SC'.

"Safety car, Rolo box now, box this lap. Kyoshiro Tohdoh has just saved your bacon."

The last part of that sentence was not transmitted, Lelouch having released his thumb from the radio button before he said it. This solved the issue of Rolo not having built enough of a gap, as the pit delta relative to the normal circulation dropped from twenty seconds to around ten, which gave Rolo a window of two seconds.

And so, as he trundled into the pit lane, the rest of the track was limited to the safety car speed, which while faster than the pit lane speed limit, the difference was not nearly as significant. Lelouch turned to watch Rolo discard his worn hard tyres and strap on a new set of mediums to take to the end. Lelouch finally cracked and let out a smile, curling up the edge of his lips as the pit process went over, as smooth as butter. Rolo rushed out as soon as the light flashed, and moved towards the pit exit.

Lelouch turned towards the track, and looked down the straight down from the last corner. Sure enough, Suzaku was sat on the limiter, leading a train of six or seven cars. They were close, but not close enough, as Rolo just about pulled out ahead of this group. Of course, the train was much faster and would normally have overtaken him, however, while the safety car was out, cars could not overtake one another on track. Rolo made a point to sway to the left, emphasising that he had left the pit lane, was firmly on track, and could not be overtaken. Lelouch took a breath of relief, as they cadre caught up to the leading group gathered behind the safety car itself.

Lelouch took several deep breaths, before looking back to the screen, and was initially confused.

Rolo in sixth, Suzaku in seventh.

Blinking, it took him a while to realise how they had jumped to sixth from ninth. Suzaku had leapt two spots in the undercut, jumped two due to the retirement of Tohdoh and Zhou, and then lost one to his teammate Rolo. It was Xingke, Gino, Naoto, Alstreim, Darlton, then Rolo and Suzaku.

Ecstatic, Lelouch pumped his fist, before solidifying the position, radioing the both of them at the same time with the two buttons pressed.

"Okay, we're in a great position. This is amazing. No racing your teammate, you both cannot afford to race your teammate, the cars behind you will eat you up if you start losing time. No racing, no overtaking, once the safety car comes in let's just pull away together. Let's just pick up some good points, we aren't as fast as anyone ahead, or a good few cars behind us. If we finish here, I'll let ye shave my head, just safeguard this position."

Lelouch leaned back and hoped they would listen, but he needn't have feared. Suzaku was obedient as ever, and Rolo was knee deep in hero-worship for Lelouch, so they just lapped in tandem once the green flag flew. Fantastically, brilliantly, beyond any and all possible dreams he could have had, Lelouch looked at the last corner, with the sixth car around being Rolo, and seventh being Suzaku. He let out a victorious roar, cheering them across and shaking the guard rail, grinning like an idiot.

As he cheered, Lelouch was experiencing a great, confused, conflicting mix of emotions. Some were joyous, some felt the weight and fear of setting overly high expectations, but the most significant of them simply feared for what would become of his beloved hair, after he had made what was now an ill advised bet if they scored points on their debut race.

* * *

 **It does warm the heart to see a new team do well, but then you remember that it's run by Lelouch. This might make you feel happier, it might frustrate you. However, this aside, something else happened this race, something that will have championship-altering ramifications. What was it? Do let me know in any review you might give, it brightens my day so much and gives me the motivation to keep at it. If you're in the /r/CG discord, you can let me know there too. I'm nearly there, so hopefully it should be a smooth run to the finish!**

 **~G1ll3s**


	43. OK43 - Late, But Fashionably So

**OK Number 43 - Late, But Fashionably So**

* * *

Sure enough, Lelouch turned up to the Sakhir Circuit in Bahrain two weeks later without hair. He ultimately didn't mind, having sewn up sixth and seventh, however skinhead Lelouch was undeniably a bad look, particularly given his long term face bruising, which completed the 'recently released from a young offenders institution' look.

The conditions on the race evening were similar to what had been seen on both Friday and Saturday, the air temperature at 25 degrees with clear skies throughout. Xingke had taken the Pole and led away into turn one. He was closely followed by Zhou Xianglin, Naoto, Weinberg, Nu, and Bradley. The quintet led away and were unaffected by the chaos that occurred behind, in turn one. After almost stalling, like Rolo had in Australia, Xianglin had dropped from second to ninth, and, trying to save her race, challenged up the inside of Suzaku's Schwarzenritter as they entered turn one. Zhou's left front tyre impacted with the right-hand sidepod of Suzaku's car which half-spun him into the Ashford-RT of Rai Lubie, who was also the driver who had replaced Lelouch when he left to go to Rebellion.

Once Zhou had emerged, having taken a severe hit, Kururugi impacted on the front left of Tamaki causing irreparable damage to the left front suspension of the Japanese car. At the end of the lap, Zhou, Kururugi, Tamaki and Rai all pitted to repair damage caused in the first corner incident with Zhou, Kururugi and Tamaki having to retire, with damage beyond repair. Rai only needed a replacement front wing, and rejoined in last.

On lap ten, Gino attempted a move on Naoto into turn one, beginning a prolonged fight for second as Xingke streaked away. The pair kept fighting until they both pitted on lap eleven, with both drivers changing from the soft tyres onto the harder rubber. This allowed for a scrap for second to expand to include Villetta Nu, as the two male drivers had been losing time due to their prolonged fights, and allowed Nu to catch them. It would only last one lap however, as Villetta span out at turn four. Out front, Xingke continued to lead by five seconds.

This was a lead Xingke would extend, and once Gino had finally put Naoto behind him for good, the remainder of the Grand Prix amounted to playing out the string. Rolo would finish fifth, though Suzaku was not on hand to make it a second successive double points finish. Luciano Bradley retired with eight laps to go, ominously suffering a dramatic tyre blowout at turn ten like Zhou and Tohdoh had in Australia.

However, once the weekend was over, the teams stay in the Middle East was not long for this world, as the circus shuffled over to South-East Asia for the Malaysian Grand Prix. At this point, the top three, Xingke, Gino, and Naoto, had finished both races in the same positions and order, with fifty, thirty-six and thirty points respectively. Rolo was on eighteen, and Suzaku was on six points, forty four points adrift of the leader, which, while it was beyond what Lelouch could expect, no doubt caused Suzaku deep seated frustration.

However, something else was causing Lelouch deep seated frustration, and it was currently chugging a carton of chilled apple juice just across the circuit from a changing room, unaware of the scorn currently being directed at her by a cripple sitting in a distant pitwall.

"D'you reckon it's hotter here than in Bahrain or what Gino?"

Kallen sighed, trying desperately to vent heat stored in the airs in her lungs as she tried to squeeze into her overalls in the five foot square cubicle, requiring her to top up her fluids every twelve seconds and keep abreast of her temperature, rising by about six degrees celsius per second.

Gino was in the next cubicle, and very much out of sight, but she could almost see his shrug as he replied "Not sure. I think it's more all the moisture in the air, it's danker than a jungle. I'm sweating spinal fluid."

Kallen could certainly relate to that. 30 degrees celsius was not quite the desert heat, but the desert was dry, and felt more like an arid scorching than a drenching boil, leading to the sense of this South Pacific archipelago being far warmer, far beyond even the south end of cicada-ridden Honshu in the height of August summer.

Just as Kallen squeezed the outer layer of nomex around her waist and hoisted them with her shoulders up to her neck, the tannoy blared into life.

"First session of qualifying begins in fifteen minutes, ticket holders please return to your stands."

This was certainly an incentive to hurry along, as getting knocked out of the first session would not only be quite embarrassing, but moreover condemn them to the back of the grid. Kallen, however, again took a breath, and looked up towards the cubicles mirror. Her pink Camelot overalls reached up to her neck, strapped across the width of her collar. In white fabric, it read out her driver information.

'Driver: Kozuki Kallen / Blood Type: B / Date of Birth: March 29th, 2000.'

She was racing again. She would be driving a race car again, in a competitive racing environment, with other drivers, trying to go faster than the people around her. She wasn't banned anymore. She looked at her reflect, and let out a relieved smile, almost about to let out a few tears in delight.

She was back.

She held air in her chest, before shakily letting it out, in a stuttered exhalation. She hadn't felt this happy since her win in Hungary. Finally feeling ready, she closed her eyes, and stepped out of the cubicle.

Gino was waiting for her, and when he saw her, laughed.

"Holy heck, were you doing cocaine in there? I've never seen you smiling like that."

Kallen chuckled, before replying "Nah, just happy to be doing this again. Let's go."

Gino nodded, before they moved out of the changing area together. These were down at the end of the final sector. The F2 race had just ended, which left the track clear to cross until Qualifying started. Moving between the grandstands, they stepped out into the last corner, only pausing for a few moments to sign autographs, before crossing over to the pit wall, running up to the gap in the catch fencing before hopping over the corrugated steel barrier. They then ran over to the Camelot garage, where engineers were almost universally pointing towards their wrists to try and hurry them along. Kallen leapt into the car, grabbing her gloves as the engineer explained the situation.

"You shouldn't have any trouble getting through to the next session. You'll do this session on Hards, we're that fast, and do the second on Mediums and start on those. That will mean we have two extra sets of softs to compete for Pole and use in the race."

Kallen nodded, saying "Sounds good.", before pressing the button on her wheel signalling readiness, as the tyres were strapped on and she was waved clear. Kallen looked briefly left, before clutching out and rolling up towards the pit lane exit to begin her out lap. She would need to drive a whole lap, come back to the start line, do a full lap from finish line to finish line, and then do another lap to return to the pit lane. Including the leaving and returning to the pit lane, one hot timed lap would require three laps of driving. The first of these laps would be required to get familiar with the conditions and warm the tyres, before she went for the hell-for-leather timed lap.

Practice had been promising. While she had bonked the nose in the first session of practice, she was finding the limits of performance very quickly, aided by one secret weapon.

Kallen loved Sepang. Like Shanghai, or Suzuka, the first turn would decrease in radius, before switching direction. A sweeper under acceleration, a short radius right hander which was tough to get right, a set of not-quite-flat out long curves, testing the tyres and the downforce. An off camber hairpin led into a blind crest and then two corners in rapid succession requiring the driver to brake while turning, which was an exercise in staving off a brake lock-up. Then, immediately after a challenging acceleration zone, came a blast down a long straight, into a long radius hairpin, and then back to the pit straight. It flowed, had camber and radius changes in its corners, and it was very conducive to side by side racing, and right now, Kallen was wrapping up her timed lap on hards, braking deep into the hairpin, before swapping back and catching it quite late into the turn, allowing her to run up against the inner edge of the track, and get the shortest run to the line.

As soon as she crossed the line, Kallen lifted off the throttle. This three lap stint was performed on minimal fuel, and she would have to coast to make it back to the pits. However, it appeared as if she was in the clear, as her engineer spoke over the radio.

"Great lap, that's exactly the time we were looking for. Get back to the pits."

She had grown so used to getting to Q3 that getting a good enough time in Q1 barely registered, only doing so because it was an affirmation that she hadn't lost her touch, particularly as she returned to the pits and saw the time.

"It's a fifth, but you're the only one on hards. You're on the pace."

Kallen nodded, however Q2 would prove more difficult. The time in this session would be set on the medium tyre, which put her at slightly less of a pace disadvantage, though her lap would still be handicapped, not only by the harder rubber, but by something less fundamental; these would be the tyres she started on if she made it to Q3.

If the car was fast enough to make it to Q3 without difficulty, it was always better to start on more durable tyres to try and push out the first pit stop to as late as possible and not be caught up in traffic. However, this relied, as well as on the hardness of the tyres, on the lap they were used on not having extracted too much life out of them.

Which would take away quite a bit of what made Kallen fast.

As well as using throttle oversteer to spin up the rear end and shift it laterally round the corner and trail braking, inducing a slide under braking caused the car face more towards the direction of the road after the corner, but as well as this the lateral resistance of the tyres, moving along the road with an element of the vector of force perpendicular to the direction of travel. Given that the wheels could not physically rotate in this direction, the degree to wheel the vehicle slowed was increased exponentially. The upshot of all of this was that Kallen could brake much later, which when combined with her two other unique approaches made what was something of an unwieldly, oversized car surprisingly nimble.

Of course, there were reasons, very good ones, why this was out of step with the traditional approach. Of course, it led to incredible rates of tyre wear, generating flat spots on the tyre as if it had just gone through twelve lock ups. As well as this, these approaches were incredibly difficult to manage, requiring millimetric adjustments of the brakes, throttle and steering wheel at a microseconds notice, a set of inputs which varied lap by lap and was overly complex to pull off for most. However, these would not be available to her if her goal was to preserve her tyres, which took away most of her arsenal.

But not all of it.

Over pre-season testing, she had noticed a peculiarity with the current spec of engines, which she realised she could exploit. She had driven the Rebellion and the Camelot, and realised that this was a characteristic of the turbocharged engines as opposed to the particular model Rebellion used; the throttle would be depressed, and while power would be delivered, there would be a moment in which the engine worked itself up and delivered full power, leading to two tenths of a second between applying full throttle to rev the engine and receiving maximum power. This normally served most drivers, as this turbo lag acted as a rudimentary traction control, preventing too much torque being put through the tyres at any given time with a gradual increasing of engine power to the wheels.

However, Kallen didn't want the engine to act as an artificial traction control. She felt she could modulate the power less extremely without breaking traction.

Her solution to the problem of allowing peak engine power to reach the wheels immediately upon acceleration was somewhat roundabout, but as she rounded the final corner to begin her Q2 lap, it definitely worked.

The unintuitive trick, its unnatural feeling being why Kallen suspected few others were using this approach, was to begin applying the throttle before she had lifted off the brake pedal. This revved the engine up and tried to apply force to the rear axle, countered by the brake, which acted as a metering agent. This would be done ideally while mid corner, so when she had gotten round she could get off the brake and the power would reach the wheels immediately, as opposed to there being a delay.

She was using the brake pedal as a throttle pedal. No wonder no one else had thought of it.

Once again, this method of extracting performance from the car by hook or by crook came at a cost. She couldn't release the brake instantly, going from full application to off without moderation, otherwise the rears would over-rotate and leave her at best with worn tyres and at worst vulnerable to spinning into a wall. The brakes would have to be released progressively, as opposed to an on-off switch, with the advantage arising more in how the moderation would be faster than allowing the engine to reach peak revs naturally. As well as this need for precision, there was also the delicate issue of the trick leading to overheating brakes, as they had to passively resist acceleration as well as their designed task of retardation. During testing in Spain, as well as untold numbers of tyres, Kallen went through at least sixty brake pads, melting them in their housings.

Given that, if everything went right, this would not wear down the tyres, unlike many of her other tricks, she could at least continue this one, as she braked into the first turn. She only lifted off the throttle in the initial deceleration, and once she crested the apex, she returned her foot to the throttle, however did not release the break until she had made it through the second apex and was approaching the outside kerb.

Sure enough, the car, already wound up and with its engine firmly in the power band of the rev range, sprang away from the spot, just within the torque limit of wheelspin due to intense focus. It was like getting a kick start against a wall in a swimming race, and propelled her down the straight, and served her well over the course of the lap, and as she approached the last corner, she sat as the red line until she made it round the corner, before dropping the brake pedal and rocketing towards the finish line.

Kallen let out a sigh, releasing the throttle too let the brakes and engine cool to a few degrees below the surface of the sun.

The session was close to ending as she crossed the line, as they had released her late so that she could take advantage of increased grip conditions from laid down rubber. She hadn't even made it back to the pits before the radio sparked into life, telling her her fate.

"You've made Q3 mate, pee six, pee six. The top ten go through, and you're in!"

Kallen, who had felt more at risk given both her being restrained from using her entire arsenal and on the slower tyre, was elated, and pumped the air vigorously, cheering into her helmet. She banged her fisted gloves against her helmet all the way back to the pit lane, where she high fived her engineer, before getting back to work.

Through to Q3, besides herself, were Xingke and Xianglin, Naoto and Tohdoh, Gino, Suzaku and Rolo, and Viletta and Luciano, however she was the only one who had tried the contra strategy.

As ever, she could guess at why she was the odd one out. Going for the harder tyres risked not being able to get into Q3, and it would put her out of step with what every other driver was doing, and if the harder tyre was not a good race tyre, she would be at a unique disadvantage as opposed to the rest of the field.

However, Kallen was not afraid of this, which was, ironically, in large part thanks to Lelouch.

He likely hadn't intended during his tract to her in her trailer after the 2017 Monaco Grand Prix for it to have stuck with her so long, but it very much had. She wanted to finish first. She would not be beaten by this old Chinese sports car enthusiast with his flat cap and tweed jacket, and she would finish first by hook or by crook.

If she wasn't first, she may as well be last. Second, third, fifth, tenth, or last; she would not settle for any of these if first was on the table.

Furthermore, if she ran an identical strategy to the Geely of Xingke, she would have zero chance of beating him. She would have no differentiation on the tyres and tactics, and her car, no matter who was driving it, was unambiguously slower than Xingke's. However, if she ran a different strategy, while the chance of her being slower than she would have been on a similar strategy was non-zero, the chance of her being faster was also non-zero.

If she wanted to beat Xingke in a slower car, using an alternate strategy was as natural as B following A. She would start on a harder tyre and try to pit later, overtaking in the pits while Xingke was caught in traffic, before defending like her life depended on it. Track position would be key.

Sardonically thanking Lelouch for the inspiration, she waited for the pit lane for the green light to signal the beginning of the third and final session. Without the need to conserve or preserve tyres, she could strap on softs and go all out for one timed attack of the circuit, no holds barred, seeking out the Pole at any costs.

"You're clear, good to go. This will be your one lap, but you've never had an issue on that front. Do us proud."

The call came through from her engineer, and she needed no further encouragement. She dropped the clutch, spinning up the wheels off the MDF floors and drifting out of her garage, hands busy gathering up the slide with a healthy dab of opposite lock, keeping it collected as she slid to the pit lane.

As she prepared for the lap, building up the heat in the tyres and brakes, working the engine and keeping the engine in the optimum rev range, she took another breath. As the car weaved across the track to laterally stretch the thread and canvas and work out the pads, as the car rocked from side to side and pressed immense g forces though her body, pushing her back into her chair, pulling her up against her seatbelts and applying massive forces to her head and neck, she suddenly felt great calm. Amidst the maelstrom of forces, physical pressures, intricate procedures, and incredible noise, Kallen closed her eyes, and smiled.

Yes, this was it, as good as it got. She would not prefer to be anywhere else.

Car over far, far to the left, almost over the kerb and into the grass, before she turned and braked. Feeling the rear slip away, she kept the steering lock in until it broke away entirely, beginning the primary rotation of the car, as well as using the lateral load on the tyres as a retarding agent.

Skating around the apex, and while still on the brakes just a bit, Kallen picked up the throttle. Like the previous lap, turn two was a sharp kink in the opposite direction to the hairpin she had just rounded, however unlike the previous lap, she leapt off the brake in one motion as opposed to gradually.

Where drivers might experience understeer by applying the throttle this early, with the increase of torque not being severe enough to break traction, Kallen's dragging of the brake meant that maximum torque was summoned as soon as she desired, which far from inducing understeer, the rear end suddenly kicking with the sudden application fo torque actually inducing oversteer, with the car pivoting nearly one hundred and eighty degrees almost on the spot.

This way, she had rotated the car from facing to the south east to the north almost on the spot by sliding the rear as opposed to allowing the steering rack to drag the front round to the desired direction, which was slower, especially given the size of the car and the limited steering angle, which rendered low speed handling quite the exercise in patience.

That was, if the driver went about it the traditional way, and was unwilling to induce severe skids and brief losses in control, trusting the car and its behaviours not spinning out into the barrier.

However, Kallen felt at one with the car, and arrested the spin just as soon as she reached the right direction, flickering her throttle input to moderate the wheelspin as she leapt up towards turn four, with turn three able to be taken flat.

Brake late into turn four, brief lift of the brakes before applying them again on approach to the apex, applying the throttle just before the apex, and taking off the brake as soon as she reached it. The car was almost unmanageable, twitching this way and that, requiring massive swings and management of the wheel to keep the car in the right direction. She had sacrificed all stability and ease of driving at the alter of speed. She could definitely confirm that the car was unstable, and required constant attention to keep in vaguely the right direction.

However, did this translate to speed? As she scrambled round the last corner, feeling the car shimmy as it was pushed beyond its designed capabilities, as she fought understeer, then oversteer, then understeer, then oversteer, then understeer, and GO!

Kallen then lifted off the brake as she finally reached the end of the last corner, and held her breath as a little under a thousand horsepower propelled her towards the line. Feeling her head get buffeted, she could only watch and pray as the line approached, unable to do anything more than pin the throttle.

And like that, it was all over, she had crossed the line. She had committed everything, put her car into the hands of fate fifteen times, and each time she had managed to come up with the exact right inputs. It was everything she could do and more. It was everything the car could do, and more.

She laughed in the cockpit, and shouting into her helmet, roared "Where am I? C'mon, how's that, how's that, HOW'S THAAT? C'mon, where am I on the grid? Did I get Pole? Did I get Pole?"

* * *

 **She's back! Did she get pole? And how are we feeling about the story so far? Please, let me know in the reviews.**

 **~G1ll3s**


	44. OK44 - Blessed

**OK Number 44 - Blessed**

* * *

She did not get Pole. But she got close, so close that her shout once she saw it on the screen back in the garage, her ear-splitting howl, heard by film crews two garages down the row, had to apply a censor over the bark.

Once she had finished the expletive, she took a breath, and screamed again.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, EIGHT HUNDRETHS OF A SECOND?"

As she lined up to the grid, she could still, almost a whole day later, barely believe it; second, less than a tenth behind the polesitter, a predictably competent Xingke taking his third Pole in a row. She shook her head, looking forward with the view of another car despite her best efforts. She had taken Pole position ten times (or eleven, if you counted Monaco 2018), and knew a good lap when she did one.

By sheer coincidence, a bad lap was quite the rarity.

However, none of this changed the fact that the Geely, driven by Li Xingke however conventionally, could not be beaten by her when it came down to it.

But points were paid out on Sunday, and as Kallen looked up to the straightaway ahead, with the red lights in her peripheral vision. She had been told by Naoto long ago that if she held it at the centre of her view, her muscle reaction would actually be slower than if she held it in her peripheral vision.

She could almost hear Diethards voice counting up, as the red blazing circles lit up, one light, two lights, three lights, four lights, five… red… lights… and…

GO!

Kallen, having revved the engine up to 13,000 rpm, dropped the clutch and let the car rocket forward. Getting an uncharacteristically good getaway, Kallen only got a slightly weaker getaway than Xingke, and was able to file in behind him early along the straight, keeping in the slipstream he punched through the air, before diving to the inside, shifting lanes just before the Chinese points leader ahead put on the anchors. Kallen was able to pull a bit further down the straight before hitting the brakes, pulling ahead before letting the rear wheels to slip out, forming a lateral moment of resistance, slowing her down just enough.

Keeping the revs high and the rear loose, she was able to turn the corner, before, like a dancer shaking their hips, slip the rears momentum into a completely different direction.

Leading after turn one. Job half done.

But of course, Xingke hadn't won two races for no reason, and proceeded to hound her through turn three, before defying the laws of fluid dynamics by holding onto her rear diffuser, no doubt a function of his sixth sense for these new tyres. Holding behind for seven and eight, he stayed in the draft until the last possible moment, getting an overshoot down the back straight and diving for the inside. It didn't matter how much later Kallen braked; Xingke placed his car between her and the apex, squaring the circle by only turning as he approached the outside kerb.

Kallen, who had hung back, by contrast turned early, taking a late apex and driving in a straight line from the entrance kerb to the apex. However, while it gave her a better run into the next short approach to turn ten, the road was falling away from her, as the track curved upwards and to the right, placing Xingke on the inside for the next corner, which aggressively sharpened as it approached the apex.

However, the ideal place to be was as far wide as possible, so that the angle of steering required would be as small as possible, sweeping through the corner as opposed to pivoting around it. While Kallen was faster, Xingke was ahead on track. Kallen held her breath as the pair drew level, waiting for Xingke to allow the graining and camber of the road to draw him out, as Kallen prayed that she could draw ahead before Xingke's path ran her off the road.

However, as the road curved away from them both, Xingke did something Kallen did not expect. He turned into the path of the road, giving her track space.

Kallen was so put off that she suddenly turned towards the now expanding gap, realising she had overdone it and tried to correct, leading to the car almost snaking and getting away from her. However, while she pulled it back under control, she killed whatever momentum advantage she had enjoyed from having the better entry to the corner.

Still unsure why Xingke had given way, she had no intention of returning the accidental favour as they moved side by side into ten. While Xingke was blocked from using the outside kerb to get the smoother run, Kallen was blocked from using the apex to get the shorter run, and had to hold it round the outside, which held only marbles and tarmac which was about as grippy as ice.

Kallen knew what was coming. She could see it just as clearly as she knew that, if the roles were reversed, she would do it too. At the apex, the driver on the inside would let the lateral momentum of the car drift it out to the outside exit kerb, forming the final 'out' of the 'out, in, out' approach to cornering. Given that he just about was in front by a hair, he would have right of way, and be well within his rights to move to the outside of the track and crowd her out, leaving her with a choice between lifting off the accelerator and being pushed into the grass.

However, yet again, she was surprised when it did not happen. He kept to the inside, which turned to the outside at the next long, fast left hander, before back to the inside, never leaving his lane, but still keeping alongside, before diving to the apex of the penultimate turn fourteen and taking the place.

Kallen was stunned. In part because of how much space Xingke was giving her, not forcing her off track, and taking the slower line around to avoid crowding her out, but moreso because it was working. Even on the longer, less grippy line, even when giving his opponent space to keep her nose in it, he was sticking alongside, not even struggling to find the grip. Even as Kallen's car squirmed to find traction on the grippy side, Xingke's car, which forwent the rubbered in tarmac, did not even twitch. She could only watch as, keeping to the right of the track, he got the better exit and rocketed away.

It mystified Kallen, however she didn't have time to be focused on that. For her strategy to work, she needed to stay close, and get the overcut while he was caught in traffic after his stop. This did something unexpected. Sitting behind him did not warm the tyres, with the new rubber being far less sensitive to heat than previously, which allowed her to close up dramatically without overly ill effect. Not quite overtake, but as Kallen sat in his wake, she did something she had not expected to at all.

She watched. She had the box seat to watch what had won Xingke the first two races, and the result was fascinating. Xingke was neither like Kallen nor Suzaku, who Kallen had previously thought to be at to opposing ends of a two dimensional spectrum of driving approaches. Instead, his entire style seemed to focus on where the weight was. The four tyres would each lift and fall independently, always placing the weight of the car on whichever tyre was needed, such as the front left for the final corner, or the rear left for an early acceleration out of it. It was fascinating to watch, even as he undeniably pulled away.

However, now was not the time for admiration or speculation. She had a job to do.

Lowering her gaze, she took a deep breath. She closed, then opened her eyes, and as she streaked down the straight, felt immense peace. In front of her, she watched Xingke pit for new rubber, and knew it was time. She had to give it everything.

There would be another ten laps before she needed to pit, and, almost chuckling as she chucked the car into turn one, felt plenty of leeway with which she could push. Balancing the entire car on the two front tyres, she prodded the car into swapping ends without allowing it to quite do so. She had ten laps to destroy these tyres, and she would do it come hell or high water.

Fortunately, her renewed attitude had come with more benefits than one. While her concentration was never an issue over a lap, she was never quite physically fit enough to sustain that level of intensity over a prolonged period, having to reduce the physical tempo of the frantic wheel movements and throttle oscillations.

However, Kallen had spent the winter leaving no stone unturned in her search for the pace to win a championship, which included a strict exercise regimen up and down the Brecon Beacons. She built up a wealth of stamina, and would now unleash it.

She felt her muscles ripping into the carcass of the tyres like the carcass of an animal, her chest and shoulders taking the full brunt of the force of the accelerations of the car, whether it was forward, back, or from side to side. As well as the forces being extreme in volume and acuteness, it was prolonged, it was sustained lap after lap, as if she was doing twelve rounds against a champion boxer with her hands tied behind her back. As the laps ticked by, her eyes, her neck, and her chest began to scream in pleas for relief.

But there was one thing about Kallen that hadn't changed. She was far too stubborn to stop when her body asked her to.

This sustained her to the pit stops. The tyres were screaming, the brakes were screaming, her body was screaming. But she had made it, and more- Xingke had been released from the pits between P7 and P8, and lost a lot of time in trying to overtake them. In conjunction with Kallens heroic first stint, she would come out ahead of her Chinese opponent, who had another stop, whereas Kallen would be running to the end.

Kallen was barely stopped for two seconds before she got the signal to punch it, spinning up the fresh medium tyres and vacating her box like the pit lane was going out of fashion. She trundled at the pit lane speed limit until she reached the exit, holding both the brake and accelerator in and killing her engine as she did, before dumping the brake and rocketing away, ahead of Xingke by ten seconds.

She cheered in her helmet. Lelouch appeared to have been right, however the race wasn't over yet, and Xingke would be catching, such was his ominous pace. The hunt, it seemed, was on.

That lap, the gap was ten point two seconds. The next, nine point three. The lap after that, eight point one. As the laps ticked away, Xingke loomed large, able to extract far more from his tyres. Kallen could do nothing but watch as his presence in her mirror grew larger and larger. Eight laps for him close up, two for him to size up Kallen, and then he struck.

He dove up her inside into turn four, however once again his approach was overly shallow, permitting Kallen to switch back, turning in early and getting the swifter exit, however this put her on the outside for the next sweeper, as they stayed side by side through the entire range of the wide, fast bend, with Kallen jerking and fluttering, but still holding on. Keeping her nose in put her on the inside for the next curve, before a blast up to turn nine.

However, being on the inside for the previous turn meant that she would be placed on the inside for the hairpin ahead, which was actually to her disadvantage, given how acute the turn was. An overly shallow angle would result in severely more steering lock being required, which put Xingke at a great advantage.

However, Xingke broke earlier than she had expected, allowing him to smooth the corner and get a great exit, while she had to take an approach that was almost perpendicular to the corner. She tried to slow beyond the apex, and block off the path with the length of her car. However, Xingke, with his car already rotated, was able to blast into the gap while Kallen tried to swing the rear end around, and she could only watch as he blasted past.

However, Kallen was not one to wave the white flag, and fought back visciously, holding through the esses of twelve and thirteen before diving into fourteen. Hugging the inside as the road curved further and further in away from her, she braked in a straight line, letting the car swash from the inside to the outside of the track. Even if Xingke was practicing Christian motoring, that hardly mandated her to follow suit, and so as Kallen let the car roll across the width of the road, she fostered Xingke's falling into a gap that was getting small by the second, which she hoped would force him to brake to avoid an accident and kill his momentum.

However, Xingke was wise to it, braking before he was boxed in, letting Kallen pass him before turning in towards the corner as she speared off and towards the exit kerb. Kallen swore, before dabbing the throttle and trying to spin the car around and face towards the straight.

However, as her rear tyres span up and lost lateral traction, encouraging the car to swap ends, Kallen felt the steering wheel jerk away from her, tugging suddenly at her arms. She could not understand, until she looked in her rear view mirror, and saw huge strips of rubber flopping up by the rear wing, being spurred into rotation by an unseen axle.

"Ah, shit, shit shit, I've got a tyre failure, box, box now!"

* * *

It was only luck that that delaminated tyre had not struck at speed, or near a wall, as that would have ended her race, and even then it nearly did; like Gilles Villeneuve at Zandvoort back in 1979, it was a struggle to wrestle the car, which required the wheel to be held perpendicularly to the road to keep in a straight line, back to the pits for new tyres, however she had done it.

Similarly, it was luck that gave her that puncture at a time when, while in second, she enjoyed a considerable advantage over her third placed teammate Gino Weinberg. While she emerged from the pit lane just behind him, she was on fresh softs, and made short work of him. It was the first double podium for any team that year, but it was in some ways a hollow victory.

Primarily, regarding the tyre failure. While it didn't lose her any positions, it had robbed her of the chance to keep fighting Xingke and perhaps get the upper hand. She would never know, and Xingke moved his tally from fifty points to seventy five. Gino only took fifteen points, bringing his total up from thirty six to fifty one. Kallen's brother Naoto, who had finished third in both of the races so far, suffered a tyre failure just like Kallen had, which dropped him from fifth to ninth, meaning he could only add two points, and boast a total of thirty two, which was still more than Tohdoh. Kallen herself meanwhile had only got her first points on the board with eighteen.

Over at the revived Schwarzenritter, Rolo was having a banner year, with a sixths and two fifths placing him atop a comfortable twenty eight points, while Suzaku, who had not finished in Bahrain and only got an eighth in Malaysia, was on ten.

So much of the standings this year was being dictated by who got punctures it seemed. The new tyres dealt with heat well, but seemed very liable to rapidly delaminate without reason, whether it was Tohdoh and Zhou in Australia, Suzaku in Bahrain, or Naoto and Kallen herself in Malaysia. However, as with many things in her life right now, she did not want to spend time on idle worrying or speculating. Worrying or speculating would not win the championship.

Instead, Kallen did something she had never done before. Not after races, not even for senior high school exams; she studied.

It was a strange new experience, however it was spurred on by the coalescence of a new attitude and a moment of inspiration. Kallen had not lied when she said she would push herself to any lengths off track to win, whether it be with exercise or careful research of where she could get an advantage. She had already committed the former, and now came her follow through on the latter as she stared at her laptop, breaking down the onboard footage of Xingke's drive frame by frame to see what he was doing.

Because it was not magic. Kallen knew that. Tohdoh did not win his championships with some magical cheat code inaccessible by any other driver, a fact Kallen knew perhaps more acutely than any other driver given the lengths she had gone to to beat him. There was no magic spell, this Kallen believed fundamentally in her soul. No driver did anything that was beyond the human ability, and if someone else could do it, Kallen could too.

Xingke's pace was simply a combination of inputs that resulted in a superior output to every other combination of inputs that opposed him. It was simply a matter of identifying and replicating those inputs. The inputs could well be intricate, or require precision, but it was corporeal, and replicable. It was the result of material effects. Kallen would learn what made him fast.

This was made more pressing by the calender, with the next weekend putting far more emphasis on driver skill over car performance. Originally, the next race was meant to be China, with Monaco and Canada as a double header, however a mix up with the calendar had changed the order to Monaco-China-Canada. Monte Carlo's tight streets was a notorious equaliser, which meant that whatever techniques Xingke was using to keep on top of these tyres would be made more pronounced.

There were two things she noticed immediately. His hands were hyperactive, as he barely went a moment without adjusting the brake bias, leaning front, rear, placing more emphasis on whichever brake he deemed important. This explained the pitching and the constant shifting of weight through the chassis. The second thing she noticed was how he used the throttle. Xingke had found the same problem Kallen had with engine lag, but found a different solution. Instead of holding in the brakes until he was ready to accelerate, Xingke used the throttle like a binary switch, oscillating the application from off to fully open several times per second, moderating the throttle not by holding it at half open, but simply switched rapidly between fully on and fully off, which had the effect of holding it at half without the engine falling in revs.

The habit, Kallen suspected, came from WEC where the electric element of the throttle did indeed operate in a binary fashion, and it was paying off here, as it seemed to work wonders with these cars, keeping the tyres warm, the weight in flux and the rear mobile. In conjunction with the shifting of the brake bias, Xingke's style focused on placing the weight on the inside wheels, keeping them in contact with the tarmac and giving him the supreme grip she had seen.

This was only possible with tyres which did not overheat when treated in this way, which was why Xingke was thriving. Kallen rubbed her eyes as she closed her laptop, feeling exhausted. Studying was a whole new experience.

She had, as with many things in her life, possessed a single minded determination to become a successful racing driver from an extremely young age. She would skip classes to practice at the local track, Tsukuba, to become more attuned to the car and hone her reflexes before the weekends race. Her brother, who had by this point become her legal guardian after their parents had kicked them out, copped immense flak from Kallen's teachers, however she didn't care. Studying wouldn't help her get to the top.

God, she must have been an awful sister, she thought to herself. She put no thought into what Naoto had to go through on her behalf, getting an earful from her teachers about what a truant she was with no future, about how she was a lazy troublemaker, and how he was to blame for not enforcing discipline at home. She hadn't even thought of him as she went off to Tsukuba and Fuji while Naoto tried to keep them afloat while dealing with her teachers complaining, which at the very least took valuable hours out of his day.

But perhaps the biggest surprise, upon reflection, was that he had never listened to them. He had never followed her teachers advice and clamped down on her, nor had he even mentioned how often and for how intensely they were trying to contact him until long after she had left school. He had not lost his temper over her skipping classes, or over her not studying, or failing tests. The only time he had blown his top was when she assaulted Lelouch. It was the only time he had done it.

She had been horrible. She had been so consistently selfish, only looking at what she wanted without seeing what impact it had on others, from Naoto to Lelouch.

As she slowly began to feel her throat and eyes well up, she grabbed her phone. She was not quite up to a phone call, certainly not right now, but she had to contact Naoto somehow, and text was as good as anything. Frantically, she typed and sent a simple message.

'I'm so sorry ~ Kallen'

The response was not short in coming.

'Sod off ~ Naoto'

 _Kōzuki Naoto has blocked you._

* * *

 **Drama! Naoto is clearly still cross, and it's not as if he doesn't have a point. But, now he's on track with her, he's sharing the circuit, they'll be hard pressed to avoid one another. What ought to be a heart warming thing, the two siblings finally racing together six years after Naoto debuted and three after Kallen debuted, they're only now sharing the road. What's gonna happen? Leave your thoughts, as well as any commentary, in the reviews, they're really helpful!**

 **~G1ll3s**


	45. OK45 - Ballet Down The Riviera

**OK Number 45 - Ballet Down The Riviera**

* * *

There was little time to worry about being blocked however, as the championship rolled on to the fourth race in Monaco. While concerns were growing over the new tyres and their safety, there was no changes between the close of business on the Sunday evening to the first Free Practise, which due to a quirk in history was held on the Thursday as opposed to the Friday.

However, Kallen didn't care if it was a Thursday or a Friday, or a Tuesday, or if it were an eighth day added to the week to avoid interfering with the intricate Monegasque street markets. Kallen loved this track, consistently being able to find a groove and a new level in the gulley and cordoned off streets, even if, due to a combination of mistakes and misfortune, she had yet to win here.

Of course, given that Xingke remained undefeated, it did appear that Kallen's drought at this track would remain intact, however Kallen, armed with the knowledge she had garnered from reviewing the tapes, intended to end both streaks over the weekend ahead. If Lelouch could find a way to win here, anything was possible.

Thursday practice was encouraging, as Kallen was quickly comfortable with the car, melding her own approach to rotating the car with Xingke's oscillations, all while making a point of making the car as inherently unstable as possible, so she could slither up the track, darting left and right at a moments notice. Particularly given how uneven the road surface was, Xingke's trick suspension which allowed the car to wallow crossways would be muted in efficacy, which, in conjunction how much she loved this track, made it her moment to strike back. This appeared to be borne out in the practice times, as for the first time this season, there was a session not topped by the Geely of Xingke, with Kallen posting the fastest time in sessions one and three, burning through 12 sets of the soft tyres to get her eye in, never budging an inch away from pushing flat out, veins and eyes bulging as she maintained pace that only just saw her pip Xingke, who almost appeared to be doing worse than her.

Kallen, aware of the toll her high energy style took on her body, had taken the winter to build up her stamina, and so was at least in a reasonable state after an intense stint, however Xingke seemed almost doubled over from the exhaustion, something she had not expected from a driver who had cut his teeth in endurance racing over six, twelve, and twenty-four hours. He did look extremely worn out after what had been just a practice session, which struck Kallen as quite interesting.

However, while Kallen's fitness spared her from tiredness, sweat was inescapable, and she was bucketing it after Saturday's third session of practice, and had to go back to her trailer to dip briefly into an ice filled bath, simply to rob her skin of surface heat, before changing back into her overalls and rushing back to the garage through the rear entrance, having seized the brief gap on the Saturday between final practice and qualifying to change out of the six hundred pound nomex gear, ninety percent of its mass consisting of absorbed liquids. Having shed at least half her body weight with a change of outfit, Kallen felt reinvigorated and punchy, light on her feet and agile in her skin as she approached the back of the garage. Even her breathing was light and delicate, with measured precision.

She sat at the narrow edge of the fabric seat, textured like a deck chair for the Mediterranean conditions, as the mechanics fettled her car before parc ferme was put into effect. Qualifying was not far away, and any last minute adjustments had to be done now.

In service of ensuring they were done, she moved over to her engineer to make sure he had taken in all her requests. In a more overarching sense, it was emblematic of her new approach of working harder than she ever had, and leaving no stone unturned. One of Suzaku's beneficial traits that she had never mastered was the intimate understanding of the car, and an attention to the minute details regarding the setup. He was not just hard working in physical exercise, but relentless in getting his car adjusted to exactly where he needed to be, knowing exactly how each component interacted and how to get his desired ends. Over the winter Kallen had studied ferociously how she could tap in to this advantage, trying to close up any edge Suzaku had relentlessly.

"Have you done the setup changes?"

"Yea. Soften the front anti-roll bars two clicks, stiffen the rears one notch. Brake bias back 3%-"

"2%, I want rotation, not to crash."

"Ah, sorry I'll put that down one then."

"Yeah." Kallen nodded, explaining as she lay her elbows on the table behind her. "The worst is the second to last corner and Loews, the front doesn't need to bite more, but the rear needs to bite less, I'm having to slow… quite a bit because I can't get over all the way to the right. The way I solve the car for Nouvelle means that I'd have the car snap on me if I were to move all the way to the wall, that's what happened on Thursday, so if we can get… a bit more of the turn in done before the apex, if we can arrive at the apex with an angle of more than 90 degrees, I'll not have to brake that much more, and can get a better exit, so if anything, we can make the steering rack more aggressive."

The engineer blinked, before asking "Are you sure? Gino's wanting to take lock out of the steering rack, not lump more on."

"He's probably worried about swimming pool, but it'll lose him time over the course of the rest of the lap, even if he's more stable. Stable means slow, particularly here."

"We'll do that then, if you're sure."

She smiled, before agreeing "Yeah. The track, it dips in towards the turn before the hairpin, at least at the ideal line. It's not on camber though, it's more that there's a hump right across Mirebeau Upper, so if you slot right into the rain gulley. The whole track is diamond ground perpendicular to the direction of travel, you can feel it in the wheel go…"

Kallen let out a small frown as she struggled to come up with the right words, before shrugging and trying to use her two hands, laid flat with palms towards the floor, raising and lowering them to indicate the lateral sloping of the track, with suitable grunts to accompany the movements to indicate the vague sensations that were being communicated to her hands and wrists.

However, the engineer nodded, accepting her handwavey explanations and setting to work, leaving Kallen with another twenty minutes to psyche herself up for the Qualifying. It was another function

However, there was not more to be done, with the last piece of her input now being applied to the car, leaving her with a half hour to psyche herself up for the qualifying.

She took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, and saw the road crawl out in front of her. The noise was ear splitting. The sensations were overwhelming, as she took in stimulation and sensation from all her receptors, the juddering shaking her hands about her wrist mountings, feeling the bumps and momentary elevations through her back and her thighs, feeling the traction, contact patch and condition of the tyres and their relationship with the suspension, latched onto the edge of the chassis, by how the throttle provided more or less force feedback, all sent to her ankle, which was doing the work of a powered hinge controlling her foot.

There were so many sensory inputs, normally overwhelming at the easiest of tracks like Monza, but here, in the narrow, tight, twisty streets of Monaco, with the short rapid chicanes towards the end of the lap, always close to the walls, always close to crashing, it was just sensory overload. The closer you were to destroying the car against the barriers, the faster you were going.

Every sense and muscle was on fire. It was pure information overload, as the minutiae of the drive would have to be adjusted on the fly, opposite lock applied in anticipation of the oncoming oversteer, one hundred and six percent focus. Kallen had to react to things that hadn't happened yet, as if she waited for them to be sensed it would be too late. Her steering wheel was never still, she would squirm and fly from lock to lock, never able to take a moment off. The narrow streets, the non-existent margin of error, the millimetric difference between Pole position and crashing. It wasn't the fastest track, but it absolutely felt the fastest.

God, Kallen would not prefer to be doing anything else.

* * *

"Thick rainclouds, sweeping over the principality. The tops of the skyscrapers, the luxury apartments and penthouses are out of sight, ascending anonymously beyond our view, the yachts are bobbing unsteadily in the harbour with the regular swells from the tumultuous Mediterranean sea, and it appears the rain, which arrived a few moments before the first session of qualifying, is here to stay. Welcome to the third and final session of qualifying, where the top ten drivers from the previous session compete for Pole, a position so far this year which has been monopolised by the man on your screen, Li Xingke, who sits, pondering the conditions. Will he do it again today, or, will the rain, said to be the great equaliser of car performance, combine with the already equalising track of Monaco to change that? All shall be revealed in the next ten minutes, as the green light flashes, and this session can get underway!"

Diethard leaned back, as the camera director switched from shots of the skyline, obscured by black clouds and the rains approaching the scale of biblical tales of Noah, to brief shots from the garages, switching between the faces of the various drivers, helmeted but with their eyes still visible, most of them downcast, thinking through how they would approach this session, with one visible exception.

"A lot of people are staying in their garages for a moment, of course, waiting for the right moment, but one woman who is not waiting is Kallen Kōzuki. She definitely has a chance for Pole here today, as she slides out on the full, blue walled wet tyre. What do you make of her so far Jeremiah? She's only had one race, but she definitely took the fight to Xingke, can she do that today?"

"Well, she has definitely committed to a setup which maximises one lap pace, which makes her a definite contender, particularly given how important Pole is here, on a track that is harder to overtake on than any other. Is it a done deal, of course not, to get good qualifying pace the car has to be extremely twitchy and unstable, and while Kallen has demonstrated incredible reactions on many occasions, the rain is going to make this all the more pressing an issue for her, but she has certainly defied the odds before."

By this point, Kallen, who had been hammering at her brakes to try and warm her tyres and brakes as much as possible, throwing the car at every square inch of tarmac and ne'er travelling in a straight line, all simply to gather up the heat, particularly given the low average speed of a tight track in the wet conditions. However, she wriggled and twisted and shook the car around the out lap, and gave the back end a kick out of Anthony Noges, running up to the start line to begin her timed lap as fast as she could.

Watching, Diethard knew the braking points. He watched Kallen fly past it, not braking until she was almost at the apex. He was convinced she had missed the corner and would spear out, however she somehow made it, flying up Beau Rivage without slowly considerably. Reid watch as she ran it up the outside of the uphill section, before turning into the braking zone. He knew how cars would react to this, and knew that it would only take the slightest twitch to spin into the outside wall, and yet it held. Silently cheering, the first split came up after Casino Square. It was fast, though given that no one else had put in a time yet there was no context for how competitive it would be, particularly compared to Xingke.

However, the lap appeared to become undone as she launched into Mirebeau Upper. She turned too early, and just tagged the rear inside wheel on the tecpro barrier just at the edge of the rain gulley. This dramatically kicked the rear end out, and beyond Kallen's control it bumped the whole car sideways and into the wall on the far side, where the rear tyre on the other side took the brunt of the impact. However, beyond the sidewalls getting scuffed, there was no damage to the car, and she could finish the lap, even if she had lost a lot of time, as Jeremiah went on to explain.

"She pulls it back, she's continuing at speed, but that was a bad moment for her, she'll have lost- yes, we can see on the delta, she lost over half a second on that bump, goodness, she's going to have it all to do on her second lap. Now, let's see, Xingke is coming up to the first sector split, and- he's half a tenth up, and with the mistake Kallen had in the second sector, he's going to take provisional Pole for sure. And look there, Kallen is coming through the last sector, up to Rascasse, and yes, there she goes back into the pits, she'll get one more lap in, as opposed to everyone else who will have to do an in lap after this one. So that's one positive, as we switch back to the Geely."

There was then once again a silence, as Xingke moved through the lap. Particularly as he moved through Mirebeau Lower and Portier, the noise of the cars engine spiking in revs multiple times through the corner, allowing him to get a great launch down to the Nouvelle chicane. As he shot into the tunnel, Diethard picked up where his co-commentator had left off.

"Three minutes to go then, in this session as we ride onboard with Xingke. Look, his wheel is far less busy, there's far less going on in that cockpit, which traditionally means it'll be a good bit faster, but tradition has never really applied to Kallen Kozuki, so, what does this mean for Li Xingke, as he springboards out of Anthony Noges, no drama, no fuss, just a straight shot to the line, as close to the wall as he dares to get to get the shortest run up to the line, and sets provisional Pole! What's Kallen gonna say about that?"

There was another pause as the camera switched from Xingke to Kallen, who was waving her arms frantically as the crew finished strapping on a new set of wet tyres. Jeremiah laughed, before giving his comment.

"Well, she's saying 'Let's have another go at it then!', she's going out again, and I think she's going to be able to improve on her first time, but Xingke was so much further ahead, I'm not sure if she's got it in the car, particularly with that finicky setup. It has a really high ceiling, but can she unlock a high enough percentage of that potential? She made a mistake on the last lap, so we'll have to see."

With a camera mounted at the pit lane exit looking back up the lane, the viewer had the perfect view of Kallen poking the angry, six cylinder, one point six litre bear between her and the rear axle, and, steering with her rear tyres, drift out of her garage from a standstill, pummelling the throttle, with the pitlane speed limit button restraining the howling beast to 49 miles per hour, like a rottweiler ripping at the bars of a pound cage.

Once she got to the pit exit though, he turned off the restraining bolt and let the hound loose. With a minute and a half before the chequered flag was shown on the session, she rushed through the lap to make sure she could get around before the flag dropped and stopped her from setting a time at the death. Viciously punching the throttle like it were someone's throat, she ran up to the line as the seconds counted down, four, three, two, and the lap began.

Inches, millimetres, micrometers away from the wall. On the absolute limit of the track, brushing the tecpro before launching the car in, with more faith put in her car than the Pope put in the Lord, trusting her car to just hang on, her lap and her qualifying position entirely in the hands of her tyres and suspension.

But they hung on, and as the car began the first phase of pivot, she slammed on the anchors, with the rear brakes doing the bulk of the work, and Diethard providing a play by play explanation.

"Look at how violently Kallen is turning the wheel, two or three times on approach to the apex, spending kinetic energy trying to get the car pointed in the right direction. It's a sharper pivot, but you lose more momentum, as you saw there up at Sainte Devote, she did her first turn early, then spent the rest of the corner trying to hustle the car into shape."

There was a brief pauses as Kallen jackhammered at the throttle, with repeated jabs and stabs to keep the revs high and the brake temperature low, a trick picked up from Xingke, before slamming it and slithering up the narrowly kinked section, with ne'er a hint of grip or traction in sight at the speeds she was travelling.

"Yeah, again, she's sliding it through Casino Square, she's having to do so much work, but this sort of setup that requires this level of micromanagement will make her faster, but also, if she lets up for a moment or loses focus, the car isn't going to save you, like it might for some other drivers and some other setups. Here, now she's approaching the first split, lets see how she's gotten on."

As she launched out of Casino Square, she rocketed down to the first split, while the commentators awaited news of her progress, which appeared on the screen as she broke into Mirebeau Upper, and Diethard and Jeremiah gasped, with Diethard recovering first.

"Ah- what, two tenths up on Xingke? Holy smokes, she nailed that first sector, on the absolute edge and still inch perfect, because I didn't think you could improve on Xingke's time, but-"

"Well, it's like Brazil ain't it?" Jeremiah interrupted. "While folks say that my bank account can't be overdrawn, I still have cheques left, Kallen has a slightly different version; I haven't gone as fast as possible, I still have another quali lap. She pulled out a banger at Brazil and she's doing it again. Let's go onboard."

The framing then switched from the spectator view just off the track, watching the car streak by the still view to a camera placed just above the central intake, above the drivers head, giving the viewers a look at how the car was being driven, and in this instance, there was only one word that could be said about how it was being driven; aggressively.

Diethard, watching as she rounded portier at a speed other drivers wouldn't even approach, commented "Well, even if it doesn't ever seem to be going in a straight line, whatever she's doing seems to be fast. It's visibly more dynamic, visibly more active. She's spending far less time in the corners off the throttle, even if she's never still on the track, shifting left and right all the way through the tunnel, moving from inches from the left hand wall to inches from the right at the blink of an eye. It must be so stressful to be racing something that can snap on you in a second like that, but she seems confident, she's certainly not backing off…"

"Yeah, it's not as if she's hacksawing at the wheel for fun, if she didn't, with the way this car is set up, she would be in a wall, it's just horrific to watch, I'm getting anxiety just watching it. But as you say, it's fast, and I think we'll agree this is Kallen on maximum attack, as she's riding the kerb like a skateboard in a bathtub."

The kerb he was referring to was the second of the four kerbs within the complex following the tunnel, rotating with the brakes into the first apex, leaving her with barely enough deceleration to miss the wall that was the fourth apex on the exit, with the wheels on the cars port side both barely missing the jutting corrugated edge, with the car on full lock, the tyres at their theoretical maximum lateral load, before shooting down the swamped straight before Tabac.

Fighting the car tooth and nail through the waterlogged surface, she gathered the car with opposite lock, compensation, opposite lock, and then back, before she surely must have screamed 'Go, go, go go go go go!', threading the needle in the first half of the swimming pool chicane, losing the rear after the second apex, which helped to point the car more towards the second chicane, with the engine already spooled up with her throttle-brake combination as she slid up to the chicane within millimetres of the barrier. She thusly unleashed the barely restrained fury in towards the final complex.

Diethard had continued to narrate the busy lap, getting built up as she gathered steam through the last sector, excplaiming "Kallen Kozuki now, we can barely see on this onboard camera with the rain, as she barely slows the car down into the double apex last set of corners, squirming under braking, that's the rear biased setup you mentioned, it makes her nimble, but it makes her vulnerable to the car suddenly coming away from her. But, she's used all her skills to collect it, and haul the car up and around to the last corner. Kick of oversteer on the exit…"

He held his breath as she rose up the outside kerb, brushing the wall, however there was grip enough to slam the throttle and for the tyres to put down the power.

"She had one get away last year, can this ugly style put her on Pole? The one that got away…"

Up against the inside wall, putting it as close as she could to the shortest possible line, she could reach out and touch the pit wall. Diethard sat and waited for the time, exclaiming ferociously once it appeared.

"…comes right back! Kallen Kōzuki gets the Pole, and this year she gets to keep it!"

* * *

 **It was taken off her last year, but this time she has an indisputable Pole Position at Monaco! Kallen put on a show on Saturday, but that's what she has always been good at; short, quick flashes of aggression, but can she sustain it? She has several more Poles than wins, but can she keep P1 around the track that was described by Nelson Piquet Senior as being like "riding a bike around your sitting room at a hundred miles per hour"?**

 **Let's find out. Be sure to leave a review! Concrit appreciated.**

 **~G1ll3s**


	46. OK46 - The May Offensive

**OK Number 46 - The May Offensive**

* * *

"With Kallen on Pole, she sits in front of Li Xingke on the inside, so she'll have the inside defensive line goin in to turn one, so she can take it a little bit easier into turn one, as the first light goes on. She was fastest in the wet session yesterday, but it's dried up today, they're all starting on the soft dry tyre, as we go to four lights, five lights, and we are racing! And it's Xingke who gets a marvellous start, Kallen was caught napping , it was a very brief window from the fifth light coming all and them all going out, she was caught out by how fast it switched and now Xingke is sweeping around the outside of her! Xingke has taken the lead out of the first corner, left plenty of space on his inside, but he carried more speed through the corner and has gotten ahead through Beau Rivage! That's a crucial move for Xingke, and Kallen's job of putting a stop to the Chinese drivers winning streak has been made that much harder! It's Xingke from Kallen, from Gino from Bradley from Lamperouge from Kururugi from Zhou from Naoto! What a start!"

Jeremiah finally took a breath as they ground the front tyres to dust, understeering through Massenet as the pack trundled along. The entire grid appeared nervous, with the cars having uncertain body language, nobody quite willing to throw away their race on the first lap.

This was most prescient for Kallen, who had crashed the previous year trying to overtake and was visibly uneasy at this reduced pace, clearly wanting to get up to full speed but second guessing the risk element, something she would not have done in 2017 or 2018. It was pleasant to see how her style had evolved from fast, but messy and crash-prone to just fast but messy, with a new sense of awareness, with that element likely at the forefront of her mind being how she had to ensure she wasn't too hasty in trying to overtake Xingke.

Not that she really could; as they rolled from lap five onto lap six, while she had not once fell below a seconds separation from Xingke, no opportunities had yet arisen. Diethard shook his head, before he passed comment.

"She can't get close enough, she's sniffing all over his diffuser, but she can't get past. It's like Lelouch and Suzaku last year; Suzaku had far younger and softer tyres, but he just couldn't get track position over the Franc. Suzaku was far too cautious to go for the move like Kallen had done earlier in that same race, and while she's definitely learned from it, there's a downside to being skittish, as we can see."

However, while Kallen could not advance beyond Xingke's pace, his pace was not a slow one, and they were pulling away together as a unit, with the third placed Gino a growing gap behind as the eleventh lap began, and Diethard and Jeremiah continued discussion.

"So what would you do if you were Kallen, Diethard? Do you stay out, wait for him to pit and try and go hell for leather?"

"Well, that was what she did last time out in Malaysia. She stayed out longer, and while Xingke was carving through traffic Kallen jumped ahead once she pitted a few laps later. The trouble is that she's on the same tyre as Xingke and will have degradation at around the same point. She'd have to try for a very brief undercut, as I can't see there being an opportunity to go for a prolonged undercut."

"That's right Jeremiah, and that's made more pointed by the fact that strategy isn't solipsistic. If Kallen pits, it's not as if Geely won't know that and cover her off by also pitting. Lap fifteen now, the two leaders are a good bit ahead, almost twenty seconds, they're just stuck together like glue. Gino has radioed in regarding a loss of his turbo, so he's down on power, but he's not getting overtaken by the people behind him at least, he's being saved by what saved Lelouch last year again, but it does mean that the top two are getting away from the rest of the pack."

Gino was, more specifically, having an ecu issue which disabled the connection between the MGU-H and the turbocharger, making the latter far slower to spool up. It would be solved by a system reboot, which could be performed once the car stopped to pit, but for now it was serving Kallen's interests very well.

However, the focus on the front pair, a pair being a more suitable descriptor of the affair than a battle given how much it would represent a perversion of the latter term, almost distracted from the chasing pack, which would have meant missing a dramatic moment up at Sainte Devote as the leading cars were moving through Upper Mirebeau.

The camera switched to watch Rivalz leaving the pits, having pitted early, come out, but while that was the intended focus of the camera director, it did not end up being the centre of attention, as just at the edge of frame, Rolo suddenly speared left and up the escape road, his front left tyre ending up a mass of smoke and rubber.

Jeremiah immediately gasped as the camera followed the stricken car, before the view switched to the onboard footage of the car, as the commentator tutted.

"It's the tyre again. Soon as he hits the brake, the outside left just disintegrates, and he's a passenger at that point. That's becoming an altogether too common sight, they'll have to see what they can do about that. Rolo's out of the race, but he moved a good way down the escape road, so I don't think we'll see a safety car."

Diethard nodded in agreement, saying "It's dangerous for tyres to delaminate this easily, but that's above our heads. We are now at nineteen cars, with Xingke still keeping Kallen behind, as the Japanese woman contemplates how she can- wait, hang on, team radio!"

Kallen sounded breathless when she came over the radio, shouting down her command.

"Guys, I've got a plan, get a new set of soft tyres ready, I'm pitting this lap."

"Are you sure? Your strategy is to go to hards-"

"I'm coming into the garage this lap and I'm not leaving until I get a set of softs. You can cooperate, or you can lose us this race. C'mon, yarimashou!"

* * *

Kallen had been stuck behind Xingke for twenty-two laps when she went to pit. Over that time, while Xingke's pace was still requiring her to work to keep up, she was given lots of time to think. Not just over her strategy, but over the events of the last three days, and how it would influence this race.

All of this culminated on her committing to the two stop strategy, going from soft to soft, before doing a final stint on the medium, where everyone else was going from soft to hard. However, Kallen had a plan.

The first inspiration came from news of Gino, communicated to her from the pits. He was twenty seconds behind, holding up a queue of cars. If she pitted now, she would come out just ahead of this train in clean air, able to push far faster than she was doing now.

Of course, this would also be true if she had pitted onto hards. However, she did not know if her pace difference on new hard tyres would be enough to leapfrog Xingke on old softs. She would have only one lap to effect the undercut, so she had to use her fastest tyre to make sure she umped ahead, even if it meant having to pit again later. Once she was ahead, she could build enough of a gap to pit again and retain the lead, or at least that was the theory.

This being borne out in Kallen finishing the race ahead of Xingke depended on two things. The first was a hunch, but a substantiated one.

After Thursday practice, Kallen had seen Xingke visibly short of breath and exhausted, and that was just a session to practice and get to know the setup, not even pushing flat out. Whatever was the matter with Li, she would take advantage, as she knew from her own experience how pace degraded through a race when exhausted.

One of the reasons Kallen had been seen as much better at qualifying than racing, among things such as a propensity to get into collisions and a very specialised style, was that her fitness was not up to maintaining her frantic style for two hours. She would tail off, and lose pace. Suzaku, by contrast, was a weak qualifier, but could sit doing qualifying laps for hours at a time without getting tired, simply by virtue of how much of an inhuman gym rat he was.

Of course, Kallen had seen to overcoming this weakness over the winter, but for whatever reason, while she had largely curbed it, Xingke did not appear to have done, and still finished his sessions wiped out and exhausted.

Whatever the reason, Kallen would use this to her advantage. To win, she would have to pull out a twenty second lead before she pitted. The soft tyres in the first stint had lasted twenty-two laps. That was just under a second a lap she would have to pull out over him to have a pit stops' gap which would require her to do twenty-two qualifying laps in succession, in conjunction with her softer tyre and his growing fatigue. No breaks, no slip in focus, no room for error. She would have to drive the perfect lap. And then do it again. And then do it twenty more times.

The second element this depended on was her. She would have to maintain qualifying levels of pace, qualifying levels of aggressiveness, qualifying levels of risk, and qualifying levels of aggressiveness for twenty laps.

She could do one. She'd had to do two one time in 2018 when she finished her lap before the flag ended the session. She had never tried stringing together five, let alone over twenty. But that was hardly going to stop her.

As she left the pit lane, she flicked up the limiter and hammered the throttle out towards Beau Rivage. Drag her scrambling front tyres around at Massenet. Flick the rear at Casino. Give the finger to whoever designed the rain gulley at Mirebeau. Poke the bear through the hairpin. Kallen, as she fell into a spell of her own making, very quickly stopped thinking about the exercise as a series of several individual, unitary laps to be completed. Instead, she took it corner by corner.

Hook the rear around Mirebeau Lower. Wide approach into Portier. Take a breath while holding tight to the right down the tunnel. Kallen, as she broke down into the Nouvelle chicane, found that the road became narrower, and her field of view stretched more into the horizon. Her body seemed to be responding more to implicit thought than active thought. As her arms and feet moved almost by instinct, she suddenly realised she was no longer driving consciously, instead driving in a fashion where she was almost telepathic, feeling a degree of separation between her brain instructing her limbs and the limbs performing the task, like she was using the controls of an arcade machine. She was well beyond absorbing the views flying past, well beyond absorbing cues outside of what would get her around the next corner. And then the next. And then the next.

And then the next.

It was the racing equivalent of autopilot, as she seemed to pay an unusual degree of attention to the sensation of taking in a breath, letting out a breath, ripping away a tear off, even blinking seemed to be all she could think of as her bodily functions completely devoted themselves to getting around the next corner, detached from any other realities of the world, whether it be the attempt to build a gap to Xingke, or even that there were any other cars on track. Kallen had this whole track to herself to just pound round, as fast as her tyres and downforce would let her. She just reached the physical limit of her car, and then just stayed there, refusing to budge no matter how much her tyres and suspension protested.

She was almost limp, her neck bobbing from side to side against either crash pillar. She did not have control over her body, she realised; her thighs and shin muscles were asleep, and anything above the shoulder was buffeted at the whims of g forces and the wind. All she could do was give it general directions. Her instinct was not one over the entire lap, but more individual. As she approached a corner, her instinct for that specific corner would take over. And then the instinct for the next corner would take over. That these corners came in a particular order was not of relevance; it was simply one corner, after another, on one great big lap within Kallen's lucid dream.

And like that, it was over; Kallen's out-of-body sensation almost led her to miss it, as she flew under a board, hung out over the edge of the pit wall. She just caught seven characters as she woke back up, but it was enough.

'KK11PIT'

She could no more tell if it had been twenty seconds or twenty hours. If the team was calling her to pit, approximately twenty laps had passed, though her determination as to how many laps had past would be as inaccurate as any estimation as to what order positions three through nineteen sat in, or what tomorrows weather would be. She was only returning to this plane of existence and cognisance as she was braking into Rascasse and peeling off into the pits. Only once her pit limiter was slammed on could she… no, destress wasn't the right word, moreso an exercise in trying to wake herself up, deliver a slap to her own face, shaking herself and zoning back in, now that the hero stint was over. She didn't know if it had worked or not, but as she slid into the box, she knew she had done everything she could have. She was only just returning to alertness as her mediums were put on and she was cleared to go. She didn't have a moment to lose, so the jack man had hardly had a chance to leap out of the way before Kallen leapt out of the box.

Kallen pressed down the limiter as soon as she crossed the exit line, almost crushing it beneath her thumb as she took the shortcut through Sainte Devote on pit exit, running up Beau Rivage, without the slightest clue as to where she was. Now that her stint requiring total concentration was over, she tried to recontextualise herself, asking over the radio "Where am I? Did I build a big enough gap? Where's Xingke?"

There was a pause on the line as Kallen crossed over Massenet, before a fuzzy voice, broken up by the tall buildings, began to speak, though she couldn't make it out. She had to wait until she had come out of the tunnel for the reception to clear up and finally ask the question and hear an intelligible answer, anticipating either celebration or disaster.

"Naoto sixth… Zhou fifth… Kururugi fourth… Gino third… Xingke second, you're in the lead, you're in P1."

Kallen roared, punching her fist into the carbon wall bordering her cockpit in celebration. She had made the undercut work on the first lap she had in cool air, coming out ahead of Xingke, before then building enough of a gap to stop again and not fall behind him. She had been right; he couldn't keep a sustained charge over a race distance, he wasn't fit enough. He would just build a gap early on and cruise, without putting too much stress through the car or himself.

The last thirty lap stint to round out the seventy-one lap event was not nearly as dramatic, as Kallen had drained herself considerably maintaining such a high speed over such a long period. However, her delight almost seemed understated, even accounting for the bloody knuckles she had got from how hard she punched the sidewall of the shoulder protectors, compared to how the team responded to her coming around the last corner, on the last lap, to win the Monaco Grand Prix for the first time in her career!

The entire team, even the caterers and cleaners, here at Monaco were leaning out over the pitwall, forming a human wall, almost falling out and onto the track as they waved their fist at the pink and black car as Kallen shot it past. They were all hanging out of the chain linked barrier, feet against the corrugated wall, one arm hanging onto the fence and the other raised in a fist to celebrate. She joined them as she slowed the car up Beau Rivage, as she shot her fists out of the cockpit, absolutely overjoyed. She only slowed as she came up to Mirebeau Upper, where a marshal handed her the Hinomaru flag of Japan, holding up and above her head triumphantly, the air holding it horizontal as she sliced through it, allowing the creases and folds to flutter at their ends.

She had done it.

The radio fired up, as her chief engineer shouted into the microphone, blasted through Kallen's ears.

"ABSOLUTELY UNBELIEVABLE, WELL DONE, AWESOME JOB, YOU JUST CAME IN AND MULLERED THE FIELD, FANTASTIC."

She laughed, as now Bartley came over the radio and picked up where he had left off.

"YES! Well done, absolutely fantastic. We knew you had it in you, but goddamn, that was Pole lap after Pole lap. We were caicing ourselves, just waiting for some slip, but it never came. Now go enjoy some damn champagne, I've no doubt you're thirsty after putting in that much work."

She chuckled again, still waving the flag like a madwoman, before breathlessly saying "That was definitely a tall order, but… whew, hell yeah!"

She pulled the car up to the front straight, and felt a surge of pride as she lined up behind the number one stand. Still holding her flag, she stood on the nose of the car, holding the top ends with her two fists up and behind her, screaming victoriously, before she leapt off the car and ran up to her team, jumping up to be embraced as the first winner of the year who wasn't Xingke.

Xingke, of course, came second, and was moving over to congratulate her. Kallen finally escaped the mass hug cum mosh pit, before she turned and met hands with Xingke, shaking palms at a twenty past eight angle before they separated. He looked pleased to have competition, and vocalised it promptly with a grin.

"Great race, I was stunned when I heard you were on softs. I thought there was no way you could pull twenty seconds in twenty laps."

Kallen chuckled, as Xingke looked as if he was about to continue, however his face shifted before he buried his face into his elbow crease and coughed viciously into it. Kallen stood back, as it appeared as if Xingke hacked up a lung into the bit of overall covering his arm. He eventually finished, before reaching for a drink and sighing.

"Sorry about that, it was a tough race. Anyway, on and up, should be good fun in the championship now that you're on the pace!"

* * *

But enough about pace or work, she had just won the Monaco Grand Prix! Kallen was the first driver to beat Xingke this year, it was her first time winning or getting Pole at the most prestigious Grand Prix on the calendar, and it was a sign that the Geely was not beyond defeat. As well, she had finally made good on her promise around Monaco, beating Tohdoh and finish on the podium here in 2017 and setting a time that was good enough for Pole in 2018, only losing it to a penalty. She was finally on top in Monte Carlo, claiming her ninth career win.

"ABOUT DAMN TIME!"

The Camelot team laughed as Kallen proceeded to somersault into the swimming pool down by the chicane, holding the trophy triumphantly, before the rest of the team jumped in after her in jubilant celebration. Diethard and Jeremiah, standing in front of a screen displaying the proceedings live, both chuckled as the mosh pit grew around Kallen, who was being lifted up and effectively began to crowdsurf through the pool.

As she continued to shout joyous celebrations, high on exhaust fumes and adrenalin, Diethard smiled at the pure display of positive emotion, all incredibly wholesome, before clearing his throat, and beginning his post-race coverage.

"Well it's been a long time coming, it's the first win since Austria of last year for Kallen, and what style to take it in. She just had another gear today, and absolutely pulled out all the stops. She's reformed her style, gotten it winnowed and refined down to a fine art, but it's not _that_ reformed. It's still aggressive, but not out of control. It leaves nothing on the table, with the rear more active than a fruit fly, but it's never panicked or flighty. She has reached a new level of one lap pace, and then, not satisfied, just did it for twenty laps on the bounce."

"Aye, and I think she needed that win. She entered this season having taken a huge confidence hit, and there were hundreds of people who were talking about how she didn't deserve a seat anymore, or should retire, but she really showed that her seat was earned. I can't think of anyone else on the grid who could have sat at Qualifying pace for twenty laps. It must have been exhausting, but look as she's high-fiving all the crew, she looks like she's gone for a light jog."

"Haha, yes Jeremiah. Now, let's look at the championship."

Waiting a moment for the graphic to appear on the live feed, Jeremiah then took over, explaining the state of play in the championship, with four races completed.

"Kallen is the big winner from this, jumping from eighteen to forty-three points, overtaking Rolo and Suzaku, the former of whom failed to finish with a tyre failure, and the latter of whom who has been having a torrid start to the season. They are sitting on twenty-eight and twenty two points respectively. It also just about saw her leapfrog her brother Naoto, who with his sixth place finish is three points behind his sister at forty points."

He paused, before moving to the second placed driver, who still led the overall standings, as he explained with a finger pointed at the screen.

"However, the order of first and second remains unchanged, and the gap between them has grown. Xingke may have just gotten his first defeat of the season, but second is better than Gino got, and their gap of twenty-four points has grown to twenty-seven, with ninety three and sixty six points respectively. So, to sum up, Xingke ninety-three, Gino sixty-six, Kallen forty three, Naoto forty, Rolo twenty eight, and Suzaku at twenty two."

At this point, Diethard took over, providing commentary on how the year was taking shape as opposed to expectations in December and January.

"Of course, Xingke grabbing the championship by storm wasn't what anyone expected before pre-season testing, but there have been other surprises. The rookie Rolo is ahead of his world champion teammate, which we'll get to in a minute, because there is another inexperienced driver outclassing his champion teammate, and that's Naoto Kozuki, who coming back from a huge injury two years ago is effectively a rookie. Jeremiah, I must ask; these two have been teammates before, and Tohdoh won out convincingly. What's changed? Is Naoto much faster, or is Tohdoh slower after his sabbatical?"

Jeremiah frowned, before shrugging and responding "Well, it's a bit of both."

Then another pause, before the former driver continued into the thrust of his point. "I don't think Tohdoh has had a significant or disproportional dip in experience, particularly given that Naoto has been out of the sport for longer, but it is important to look at his psychosis. When Kallen beat him, Tohdoh immediately was so discouraged he left the sport. We don't know what's going on in his head, and how his confidence is doing. Suzaku talked a lot about how confidence informed ability, and we might be seeing that in Tohdoh. Of course, there's also Naoto bringing his A game this season, complimented by the car. The Rebellion car was made for the styles of Kallen and Lelouch, which is far closer to on that compliments Naoto's driving style than Tohdoh's, with Suzaku being the only driver whose style is similar. So I think it's a combination of the two."

Diethard nodded. "Right. So, back to the other surprise; what's on Earth's happening at Schwarzenritter?"

* * *

 **First win for Kallen, she breaks Xingke's streak! Hell yeah! Review, like, whatever, Kallen's back!**

 **~G1ll3s**


	47. OK47 - In My Hour Of Darkness

**OK Number 47 - In My Hour Of Darkness**

* * *

Suzaku shook his head as he mopped his face and stepped onto the weighbridge, shaking his head. This fourth had been his best finish of the season so far, and he had only gotten it with a combination of his teammates puncture and Bradley having to retire in the pits with a clutch problem. On pace, he only was good enough for sixth. He wasn't even beating bloody Rolo, with Rolo finishing ahead in three out of the four races, and would have made it four out of four if the tyre manufacturers had been anyway inclined towards making a tyre out of a material other than glass.

Suzaku had not gotten a single podium over the entire season so far, and he did not feel as if his driving had degraded at all. He was still driving as well as he had in Brazil, or any of his other championship drives. However, he seemed to have hit a performance wall, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get any more out of the car.

No matter how hard he studied the tracks, how much time he was putting into the simulator, how much he was building his stamina and ability to sustain a charge, no matter how precise his actions or smooth his inputs, there was no correlation with improvements or success.

He kept his feelings to himself until he found a back alley to retreat into, dark and away from cameras. He knelt down, back against the brick wall forming the ground floors east face, dipped his head and began, quietly, to cry.

What was going on? Why the hell was he so apocalyptically off the pace? He was sleeping in the factory so he could spend more time in the simulator, he would exercise in his statutorily mandated off hours, and focus obsessively on getting every detail right. He was trying everything, and seventh was as good as his most committed dedication and effort could accomplish.

Pathetic, he began to sob into his elbow. In the world according to Suzaku, success was a function of effort, and if he was not achieving success, there was only one explanation.

Suzaku's solution to slumps like this, as he had not been so blessed as to have completely avoided substantial challenges, winless streaks, or just a general fall in competitiveness, was to work harder. He had not floated on unfailing and unceasing success from karting to a world drivers championship in the premier motorsports field, and it had not been resolved by wishing it away, or waiting for the lull to pass over. He had always taken the initiative, made changes to improve his form before he got stuck.

He was stuck, and for the first time in his life he didn't know what to do.

After a few minutes, he heard a gravelly shuffle, the soles of shoes grating against a rough surface, and looked up to see Kyoshiro Tohdoh of all people. Suzaku was initially mystified, before he followed Tohdoh's puzzled gaze down his torso and to his left hand, holding a cigarette.

Suzaku pieced the clues together just as he saw, in Tohdoh's face, his countryman piece Suzaku's red eyes, teary face, and slouched squat together in the same manner. He paused, before awkwardly trying to find a way to excuse himself, as each person unintentionally learned something unsavoury about the other that they could easily have lived without knowing.

"I'll… I'll find someplace else. Sorry."

Tohdoh, feeling awkward both at having someone see his secret habit, and discovering his fellow driver in tears, and decided it was best to excuse himself, leaving behind the implicit message of "I won't tell if you don't", which seemed fair. It was hardly Suzaku's job to police Tohdoh's life, and the feeling, particularly given Tohdoh's aversion to emotional intimacy, seemed to be mutual.

However, it did not appear that Tohdoh had kept his promise, as Lelouch came to the alleyway within three minutes, moving in with his cane in tow, and a concerned look on his face.

Suzaku simply shook his head as Lelouch approached, and, with a nasally voice from having so recently cried, simply said "I'm not there, I'm doing everything I can, but it's just not…"

Lelouch shook his head, before extending a consoling hand and beginning "The car isn't even close to Camelot or-"

But Suzaku shook his head more firmly, and snapped back at Lelouch, interrupting him with "I can't do anything about the car now can I? Ye design the car, that's out of my hands. I can't change the car, it's my job to do the job with the car you give me. And I don't… I'm doing all I can, but I'm not up there. I'm doing absolutely everything I can, but it's just not working, I'm sweating bloody spinal fluid in practice and fourth is the best I've come away with."

Lelouch let out a disappointed sigh, before he softly replied "There isn't always something you can do."

This set Suzaku off, as he threw up his hands and replied "Well that doesn't really get me up the grid? What the hell can I do, sit here and suck it up? What can I do? Tell me; if there's something I'm not doing, which clearly there is because at the best of times there's bloody… three cars up ahead of me, what is it? Please, tell me at your nearest convenience. It might be a great surprise to you, but I don't particularly enjoy hanging around at the back of the top ten, and if you're sitting on some details about shite I'm doing wrong, because I know it's something, you really ought to consider sharing it."

Lelouch didn't reply, and Suzaku, still cross, continued, "The car wasn't being developed last year either, we had our lead sponsor pull out and the car didn't advance past about Hungary. I still won the championship. It wasn't an excuse then, it's not now. So what if the car is shit? I should be better than that, I-"

Suzaku's voice tripped, as he choked on his words before looking down, ashamed.

"I shouldn't need a perfect car. If I were any good, if I… I'd be able to make poor cars work. But I can't even keep up with bloody Rolo, for gods sake… fuck me-"

His voice had now gone from unsteady and breathy to barely audible, stopping his already wispy mumbles to barely mouth the words, only just above a breath. After pausing to collect his thoughts, he garnered up a second wind, speaking with more vocal clarity and resonance, if not volume.

"I'm exhausted. I've spent every waking moment up either in the sim or the gym, trying to shave away a tenth, a hundredth, a thousandth. Please, tell me what I have to do. I'm putting more work in than I've ever done. So, tell me, why am I being beaten by Xingke and Rolo? Have I… god, god damnit."

Suzaku was now moving from sad to angry, the edges of his mouth curling into a snarl as his began shaking his head more fiercely.

"Perhaps last years car wasn't all that bloody terrible, if this is all I'm getting in this years one. Maybe… maybe last years car was really overpowered and we just didn't realise it. Maybe I'm only just getting a fair comparison now."

Lelouch let out a sigh, before pleading "Suzaku.."

"I mean… it was never talent, it was never talent that got me here." Suzaku ignored, having now built up substantial emotional momentum. "Xingke has talent. You had talent, you had little else, let alone money. Kallen has talent in abundance. All I had was stacks of money and no concept of healthy work habits, and devoted every waking hour into practice, so I always had the practice edge. Now that I'm teammates with someone with actual talent, this is just the exposing. I mean, perseverance was the only thing going for me, and now even that isn't working. I mean…"

The momentum ran out, as Suzaku, having already exhausted sadness, reached the end of his anger, and, as if he was speedrunning the stages of grief, seemed to move into forlorn acceptance.

"I remember when I was younger, you were there, in karting. I always thought there was nothing that I couldn't do, if I set my mind to it. Well I've found something I can't do, I've found my ceiling if you're saying there's no secret you're keeping from me. I can't keep the pace. I can't put this car up front."

Lelouch frowned disapprovingly, as Suzaku looked up through his fringe, head tilted down but eyes still meeting the Frenchmans. Suzaku had little doubt what he was thinking, but it still hurt to hear once Lelouch began to speak.

"Take this week off." he spoke, flatly. "No work, no practice between now and thisday week. If there's anything slowing you to this extent, it's exhaustion. You're too stretched out. You need to learn how to relax, you're wound up like a spring. I joked about karōshi, but your performance, if it's suffering at all, is because you're burning the candle at both ends and running out of wax. Your performance is being hurt by how hard you're working yourself, not helped. You're not getting proper sleep and you're fatigued."

Shaking his head, Suzaku sighed, almost resigned to his fate, before pleading "Lelouch, you know me. I can't do that, I can't rest unless I'm comfortable and getting better, and right now I've a lot of work to do in getting better. You're my friend, you know-"

"Yes, I'm your friend." Lelouch snapped back. "I want to see you next year, in the flesh, and not in a casket. Yes it's how you are, but that doesn't mean that it's healthy, or that I have to like it. You hated to see me in hospital after Brazil, right? How do you think I feel seeing you like this?"

As Suzaku cringed, Lelouch did not stop, using his familiarity with the Japanese heir to great effect, becoming colder as he continued "Moreover, our relationship isn't only friends anymore. I'm your employer, and as your employer I instruct you to calm the hell down. Take a break. If I catch you working, I will not hesitate to fire you."

Suzaku knew, whether Lelouch might and might not be right about regarding his performance, that that had not been a lie or a bluff. Lelouch would do it, that Suzaku had full belief in and awareness of, and so he could only look on as Lelouch maintained the stern tone.

"And we both know how much this means to you, so I'm confident that isn't going to happen. I know how hard this is for you. You don't want to hear it. You're angry, ashamed of yourself for not pushing through. I get that, but this is for your health. Now go home and relax."

* * *

Kallen only finished her joyous cheers and celebrations at half one the next morning, and, slightly inebriated, made her way to Nice and was on the morning flight to Shanghai by six.

Routed via Helsinki, the flight took fourteen hours all in, however, for complicated reasons involving the international date line, she arrived at just after one o'clock in the morning the next day Chinese time, and went straight to bed in an airport room, primarily as a function of averting jet lag.

She woke a few minutes past seven o'clock, feeling satisfied for having pre-empted the danger of long-distance travel, before showering in the in-house gym and getting a lift with the team for the trip to the circuit near Jiading, an hour north west of the airport by van. They arrived at half past nine, where they began to set up for the next weeks race.

Kallen meanwhile sat for a moment in the garage, sipping at a carton of apple juice. She had sobered up between the long flight and the sleep, and was feeling like getting back into work mode, even if, judging by how sparsely the grandstands and facilities were adorned. FOM would only arrive on the Sunday before the race, and spend four days setting up the facilities and sponsorship decals. However, unlike Monaco, it was a permanent circuit, which meant that track walks could be done effectively at will, which she very much intended to do at a later point.

But, as she saw in the corner of her eye a pink blur, she became aware that that later point in the future was quite far away indeed, as Euphemia McGlynn vibrated into view, literally oscillating with the resonance of a violin string in an incredibly amusing fashion as she moved into the garage. She then grinned, flashed the peace sign with her middle and forefinger, and cheerily began to talk, mouth opening and closing at an rpm approaching her engine at full chat.

"Hey Kallen! That was quite a show up there in Monaco, now wasn't it? We're not in Kansas anymore, but we'll be able to see about finding a quiet spot to have a chat, if that's alright?"

"My contract requires that I answer yes."

Euphemia laughed, slapping Kallen on the shoulder before replying "Now that's the enthusiasm we all love to see from our oh so choleric driver, mm? The go-get-'em attitude? Mm. Perhaps not, but maybe I'm just no fun to be around. I'm not as young as I used to be, after all."

Kallen rolled her eyes at the overdramatic display, before dryly replying "Euphemia, I'm fairly certain you're younger than I am."

She laughed again, shaking her head before replying "Indeed. It's Cornelia's bad influence I tell you. Anyway, the suits don't arrive for another week, so we can just stake out one of their booths and close the blinds, unless that makes you uncomfortable."

"Don't care too much." shrugged Kallen, understanding the importance of preventing isolation between therapist and patient, however Euphemia was far more dorky and bizarre than at all predatory. The session may even actually prove productive, given that, unlike Euphemia's office at Camelot HQ, the corporate suites were not littered with distracting tat. She knew it too, as she adopted a glum look as she pulled the door handle.

"We'll have to be doing it here. Quite clinical, but we can make do."

Kallen wasn't quite as dour about the whole situation, having a neat desk, carpeted floor, and nice view of the stadium on the far side of the pit straight. Laughing, Kallen replied "I suppose so, we'll scrape by with these lovely conditions and neat desks, woe is us."

"Neat is certainly not my style." Euphemia laughed. "I didn't think it was yours either. I was watching you put it on Pole on Saturday, and that was hardly organised, neat or put together. It was messy, sorta chaotic, all out. Very you, no?"

Kallen, after some hesitation, shook her head "I don't think so. I provoke the car, send it into all sorts of shapes, but it's never… it's never beyond me. It's hard to keep in check, I need to be thinking at a million miles a minute to keep up with the inputs, very precise, timed at just the right moment. And that changes lap by lap, with the track conditions, rubbering in, and so on, you need to keep aware of how the track is behaving and respond on the fly. It's like playing a massive piano riff. It looks like keyboard smashing, but it's more complicated than that to make a nice melody come out."

"I've counselled drivers for a few years, but that's the first time I've heard that analogy." Euphemia giggled. "I'll have to use it next time I pretend to know what I'm talking about to my mates about all of this. But anyway, let's get this started. Do you remember what we talked about the last time?"

"Yes, the anger iceberg."

"Very good. Can you go over what it's about, what it means?"

"Anger is more… more of a 'secondary emotion', you said. Anger is a response to a primary emotion, such as hurt, fear, or sadness. In that way it's kinda like an iceberg, the surface… the… visible bit, is anger, but the primary emotion has most of the ice underneath the water, out of sight."

Euphemia smiled and nodded, scribbling down a note before speaking again.

"Before we begin this weeks work, have you completed last weeks mood chart?"

"Filled it out on the flight over. Here you go!"

She took over Kallen's sheet, before reading through it aloud.

"Wednesday morning tired, Wednesday afternoon restless, Wednesday evening anxious, Thursday morning relaxed, Thursday afternoon surprised- why surprised?"

Kallen sighed, trying to remember back that far, quietly realising the whiskey had been quite a bit more effective than she realised at the time, before catching it and replying "A few things. Xingke was exhausted after FP1, which really caught me off guard. He was Mister Le Mans for a good few years, I thought he'd be in better shape. As well, I was on the pace right off the bat, which after Malaysia was quite the pleasant shock."

Euphemia nodded, and while Kallen doubted that she understood half of what Kallen had just said, the parts which were relevant to her explanation did not rely on an extreme amount of technical lingo.

And so, Euphemia simply continued to write and, not looking up from the page for a few moments, continued "Grand so. Thursday evening, excited, no doubt why, Friday morning bored, Friday afternoon bored, evening bored- I'm seeing a pattern, but anyway, worse moods to be in. Saturday morning, excited, afternoon, focused, evening, happy, can't sleep from excitement. Valid, you're just after getting Pole at Monaco. Sunday morning, threw up, have to focus, mm hm. Probably nerves, no panic on that end. Sunday afternoon is same as the evening, celebrating, very very drunk. Again, hardly unjustified. Monday morning bored, brings us up to Monday afternoon. How are you feeling right now?"

"Bored. Still riding high though at least."

Euphemia laughed at this honest assessment, before acknowledging "As you should be. Pulling a second a lap over the fastest car and driver combination on the grid right now is insane. Though I am interested in the bored element. This lines up with previous weeks. Are most things boring to you?"

Kallen shrugged, replying "Most things outside of a car really. I suppose once you've gotten accustomed to travelling at two hundred miles per hour and brushing barriers, everything else just seems deathly slow and dull."

"Noted." Euphemia smirked. "Anyway, I'd like to try and probe about a bit, ask a few questions about how you're getting on with… y'know, stuff that makes you angry. Has anything made you angry recently?"

"Well, I spun in Malaysia practice, but it wasn't a huge thing. Knocked the front wing. Lost some time to repairs, which was annoying, but it wasn't the end of the world. All part of getting to grips with how far you can push the car."

"Did you use the strategies we've talked about?"

Nodding, Kallen was able to answer "Aye. Deep breathing, the works."

"Very good." she smiled. "Now, I want to try something new. How you think about a situation can influence how you feel about it. For example, if you think that someone 'has it out for you', you will probably see all of their actions in a negative light. Let's go back to Brazil, last year. In what ways could changing how you think help you control how you feel?"

Kallen let out a breath through her cheeks. Her thoughts took a few moments to form around this new framework and perspective, which contributed to her hesitative response, replying as the words formed, regardless of the cadence and juddering feel the timing of the words communicated.

"How I thought… well, probably going back a good way, Lelouch was seen as suspicious. Naoto had talked about how he didn't trust him after Formula Three, and I had suspected he fiddled with my car in quali for Abu Dhabi so he could catch up. Then Naoto reiterated his warning on the flight to Brazil, so going in I had… I'd built up an expectation of it, I was looking for it, I was so ready to see his actions from that lens."

Euphemia nodded, looking pleased at the results the exercise, before asking "And what would you say now the situation was, now that you're out of the heat of the moment?"

Kallen sighed. She did not enjoy the answer to that question. She had not talked about it at all, as it would in some way legitimise what she did and take blame away from her, which she did not want to do. However, while she disliked it, it remained true.

"He did it on purpose."

* * *

Suzaku's week long holiday was supposed to relax him, to help him destress, release some of the elastic energy built up on his internal rubber band.

It hadn't worked. Suzaku was continually restless, to the point that, come Saturday evening, he was squatting outside the locked gates of the factory, just waiting for midnight to arrive so that he could leap the fence without technically violating trespass law under the contractual instructions he was given by Lelouch in Monaco. His so called holiday had been the worst week he could remember in the last five years, apart from Lelouch's first week in hospital, which was more depressing than enraging, and, as he looked at the tablet in his cockpit to survey the live feed of the track, he could only say he was absolutely delighted to be back.

Which, it could be argued, was an unintentional benefit of the holiday; with the non-consensual time away, Suzaku was impossibly pumped to get back in the hunt, past the moment of bitterness and anger after the Monaco race and now simply wanting to get back into the flow of working.

It had been two weeks since then, as Q1 for the Chinese Grand Prix was now just beginning. Cars were just now coming around the last hairpin and getting ready to begin their timed lap. Suzaku, wary of the reported rain arriving from the northwest, which would likely affect either turn six or turn thirteen before it made its way towards the pits.

The camera followed the championship leader, Li Xingke, as he made the best of the conditions, likely not wanting to risk waiting to see what the conditions were like. Suzaku looked on as the hometown hero moved around the snail-like first corner of the track shaped after the Hanzi 上, Shàng, for "upper" or "above", one of the two characters that formed the pinyin Shanghai.

However, Suzaku noticed something odd. Was it the… was it the natural haze of the area, or was Xingke's exhaust letting out white smoke?

It grew in intensity, confirming it, before Suzaku heard on the broadcast a radio call telling Xingke to pull over, and retire the car. The gearbox had died, just before turn six!

Suzaku swore, suddenly distracted from the weather as the smoke now billowed out from the exhaust of Xingke's car, before the machine came to a stop just off the track. What on Earth had gone wrong?

But then the other shoe dropped. This was Xingke's first timed lap of qualifying. He hadn't set a banker before this, meaning that so long as a driver set a time, no matter how dire, they would start ahead of Xingke.

Suzaku, as much as his mind hated that it leapt immediately to calculations regarding the race, it nonetheless sped to what implications this could have. Li's home race hopes had just become a great deal more distant, and Suzaku's chance of getting a podium had shot up immensely.

* * *

 **Slow chapter, hopefully the character stuff has kept ye all sated! Please review if ye can!**

 **~G1ll3s**


	48. OK48 - The Long March

**OK48 - The Long March**

* * *

Li Xingke lined up so far back along the grid that he could barely see the lights count up one, two three, five, and then extinguish, only intuiting this information from the fuzzy resolution of the lights, some two hundred meters down the road, and by the increasing swell of engines. It was only as the red faded that he was in any way aware of the race beginning.

While Xingke had only stolen one podium back in 2015, and had spent all of his time since leaving the World Endurance Championship for prototypes and sports cars to make the leap into single seaters in middle of the road cars, his normal starting place was between eight and fifteenth, as opposed to the back row.

He wasn't Shinichiro Tamaki, after all.

He had only lined up last twice before, and his third instance stood in unison with the prior two; his engine had let him down, either, as it had on this occasion, in Qualifying, in free practice three, which was just before qualifying, or as a function of penalties. However, the reason did not matter; he was here, he remained here, and he still had the pace to do well, certainly not pace that would land one on the last grid slot. As the tyres screeched, complaining aloud in their pursuit of purchase, Xingke used his free paw to slam down his visor as his eyes began to feel the soft pelt of atomised rubber from the car ahead. Visor down, focus on. This years car and tyre performance had given him his best opportunity in years to win at home not only for his first time, but for the first time of any Chinese driver. This chance would not easily be discarded for Xingke, who saw red as he built up speed up to the first corner, hidden by the concertina crowd of cars, bunching together at the apex as the natural line of the corner funnelled them all into one lane. However, while he couldn't see the line through the traffic, he could definitely see a cloud of smoke and a thud up ahead, just at where the curve doubled back on itself.

The source revealed itself as the polesitter, winner of the last race, and in all honesty the biggest threat to his victory, Kallen Kozuki, facing backwards, giving Xingke a bizarre sense of déjà vu for last year, before the déjà vu was ramped up to eleven as Luciano Bradley was pitched in the gravel behind her. It appeared that Luciano's divebomb had been about as effective as it had proven in Silverstone 2017.

Well, at least that was one threat out of the way, though, while Luciano was beached and out of the race, Kallen had managed to keep it on the tarmac runoff and was able to rejoin, if in last place, as not only would she be behind end of the queue, but when she arrived at the end of the queue, she would be shocked to learn that Xingke was not the person she was staring up the rear wing of.

This was because Xingke had shuffled a good way up the road, using his better grip and acceleration to rocket out of turns three and four, having massive overspeed on the straight through the almost undetectable kink of five, passing in a straight line up to sixteenth, fifteenth with a dive up the inside for the hairpin for turn six to claim fourteenth. Six places in six corners, even if two were claimed more by a deficit of skill on the part of the others than any particular skill of his own.

However, as the first car got away from the second, and the second from the third, and the third from the fourth, Xingke's job would become increasingly difficult as the pack increasingly became far less bunched up.

However, Xingke still had the pace of a frontrunner, and through the long left hand sweeper of seven, where a car was grip limited, he absolutely hounded the thirteenth placed driver, Rivalz Cardemonde, getting within inches of his diffuser and just sitting underneath his rear wing before the road changed direction, the corner tightening into a slower rightwards bend, where Xingke struck, moving to the outside of the Ashford and driving the wider, longer, and most importantly dirtier strip of tarmac, having the grip and confidence to just muller him as they went side by side out of the corner and into turn nine, not a lift to be heard what with Xingke's understanding of how to switch on the full potential of the tyres, where one of them would have to concede the position, and it wasn't going to be Xingke.

Rivalz seemed to acknowledge this, and conceded the position by braking early. Wary that this could be the same trick Kallen had tried in Malaysia, braking early to get a better approach and exit acceleration, Xingke used the newly opened space to his right to shift towards the outside, widening his approach as he swept into the double apex set of corners, slow then fast with a deceptively tight approach to the apex that Xingke hated. However, his plan had worked, and Rivalz was not able to strike back at the local driver. However, his party piece was still to come.

Violating parc ferme meant making changes to the setup after the final session of practice. The car you qualified on had to be the car you raced on. This was enforced with grid penalties, dropping a driver down five places if a change was made to any performance element of the car apart from tyres. However, since Xingke was starting last, he didn't have any further back to go, and had effective license to focus his setup on overtaking in the race as much as his heart desired.

The upshot of all of this was that he was running the narrowest wing on the grid, which, as he wound the car up through twelve and thirteen, meant that he could take full advantage of the single longest straight on the Formula One calendar, with a top speed the other drivers, who had focused on qualifying where corner speed mattered far more, could only dream of. They would be sitting ducks.

The overspeed was something like twenty kilometres per hour, as Xingke breezed past car number thirteen, having cleared its front wing well before the braking zone. Braking from well over two hundred, almost two hundred and ten miles per hour, the momentum of the car bled off like it was missing a limb until he finally arrived at the apex of the hairpin, travelling at some sixty miles per hour. A final kink, and lap one was boxed off. Fifty-five to go.

The rate of advance slowed, as the gap between each car grew. If he overtook one, the next one along would be further ahead than the one he had just taken had been as they stretched out like an accordion. During the process of reeling the next one in, the one after that would extend the gap to the car behind them. However, he plugged on, confident the race would come back to him as it moved through the lull. Perhaps one every two or three laps, he would reel them in and blast past on the straights with far less drag. He had the pace, he just needed to be measured. He had plenty of time, as well, as he just marched forward, careful and considered, but continually just closing the gap, closing the gap, there's no rush, it was a long race and come lap twelve he was already up into the points, with most of the backrunners being quite easy pickings. Each new opponent would be harder and faster than the last, but, Xingke knew as he coolly calculated the race ahead, he had twenty five laps to overtake nine cars, in either the fastest or second fastest car/driver combination on track, with the only potential rival for the title of fastest, that being the Camelot of Kallen Kōzuki, some way behind him.

Here was where Xingke's Le Mans years came in. It wasn't in the stamina- the condition had put pay to that- but it was in the patience. A distinct weakness in Kallen was how she would see red and make a risky lunge, taking the chicken out of the oven before it was all finished and getting salmonella. Xingke had had to sit in someone's wake for six hours before finally completing the pass back in the 2004 Twenty-Four Hours of Daytona; he had developed a thick skin to being patient.

However, unlike the overly conservative Kururugi, he would not hesitate to bite once an opportunity arose, as he did into the first turn, sneaking up as Albert Darlton defended the inside to take the wide arcing line through the two hundred and seventy degree turn, jumping to ninth as he switched back up the inside of the now defenceless B.A.R.

Eight cars to go.

Xingke, much like Kallen had done in Malaysia, opted to start on the harder tyre to mix up the strategy and propel himself up the field, with the top ten cars required to start the race on the tyre they set their fastest Q2 lap on, which was generally either the soft, or, in Kallen's instance back in Malaysia, the medium. Xingke was on the full boar hard, and now the cars ahead were pitting off of their soft tyres and onto mediums. While China was a notorious track for tyre wear, the soft-medium strategy was not unwise, as local meteorologists were noting the possibility of rain coming halfway through the race, forcing drivers into aggressive strategies that had them pitting often, to make sure they would not be caught out.

However, Xingke had a keen awareness of the weather, and ploughed on. While he wasn't particularly fast in the wet, certainly not as fast as Kallen or Tohdoh, his time spent in the marshes of central France had given him a unique skill; he always knew what tyre to be on for the conditions, he knew from the clouds and humidity what the conditions would be in the next lap, and when to pit.

Nonetheless, the drivers ahead had already pitted. Such was the traffic snake formed by the spreading field, they had pitted and come out ahead of Xingke, with Naoto, the leading car, almost in a different postcode. Well within Xingke's postcode however was his teammate, Zhou Xianglin, who seemed to be struggling around her home track, and was well within Xingke's postcode.

Xingke, who was on a charge and had a championship lead to preserve, was tempted to call in for team orders to ask Zhou to not obstruct him, however he didn't need to, though not for the reason he expected.

They moved in line down the pit straight, separated by half a second, however, just as Xingke shifted to the inside of Zhou, he was in the box seat to watch her rear right tyre rip apart down its central spine, leaving the two sidewalls to flap about without a binding. Suddenly without her rear grip, she fell into a half spin, nearly t-boning Xingke as the car slewed inwards out of her control, his sidepod being saved only by his quick responses and willingness to crop to the inside of the kerb, dirtying his tyres.

However, between his tyres and Zhou's, he would definitely choose his, which were a great deal more intact than the delaminated rubber flopping about Zhou's rear end, as he pulled ahead of her limping car, but not so much as to miss her pulling off onto the inside grass patch, unable to continue with the race as her floor was ripped apart from rubbing against the tarmac.

With Zhou now having reached her cars final resting place on the inside line of a hairpin, a safety car was inevitable, which, given that several drivers had already pitted, could gain him time, as he would be entering the pits while the grid was travelling much slower than they were when the other drivers had. However, the other shoe dropped as he made his way around.

Neither Naoto nor Tohdoh hadn't pitted from first and seventh respectively, being on the same strategy as Xingke of going long on the harder tyre, however, given that each team only had one pit box, whoever didn't go in on this lap would have to go round again, and catch the back of the safety car. Once the leading car had caught the back of the safety car, they could not overtake it or exceed its speed.

Whoever Rebellion didn't pit would lose a shedload of time behind the trundling safety car on their way back around to the pits while everyone else pounded around at full tilt, trying to catch the back of the queue. If they pitted, they would come out at the end of the queue.

Xingke laughed as he moved through to the pit lane, not having caught the pace car, knowing that anyone who didn't enter the pit lane would run into a brick wall as soon as they entered the first corner and ran up behind Marianne Vi Britannia. He moved from hards to mediums, just getting away from the box as he caught a glimpse ahead of the Rebellion, with the rear wing sponsor indicating it to be Tohdoh's. Naoto was the one Rebellion had screwed over.

And so, while he had fallen behind Albert Darlton, Zhou's retirement had meant his stop was functionally free, and Naoto would have to pit while the queue was all bunched up, so this safety car gained him a free spot, from ninth to eighth.

The safety car bunched them up just out of thirteen, and kept rotating for another two laps as a tractor extracted Zhou before releasing them on lap forty two of fifty six, just as Qu Yianqiao, his race engineer, came over the radio.

"We're expecting light rain in five minutes, to progress into heavy rain. Alert us if you need to get off the slick tyres, let us know when you need treaded."

Xingke did not respond, instead deep in thought as he shot out of the hairpin of turn six. The Circuit de la Sarthe was a big, long track, but more importantly in some respects it had a large area. It had a wide geographical footprint, being spread out over public roads. The Shanghai International Circuit was not public highway, far from it, but it shared one element with the site of the world's most famous saloon car endurance race; it was massive. Turn thirteen was one point two kilometres away from turn fourteen down a straight, which was in turn a kilometre away from turn one, and the distance from turn one to six was another kilometre. This approximately square shape meant that the track enclosed around seven hundred thousand metres squared. If it was raining on turn one, it could be bone dry at turn six, or thirteen, and so on.

This had lost him a Le Mans victory in 2008, when he pitted for wet tyres as it was raining absolute buckets down the entire length of the Mulsanne straight. He hadn't realised that because it was not raining at around the Porsche curves and the final chicanes, though these were the only dry areas, because these curves were where tyres and traction was more critical, it was faster to be on dry tyres even if most of the track was wet, simply to gain time on the parts that relied on having grip. He did not intend on repeating that mistake now that he had an opportunity to win at home, and so, even as he saw the clouds and heard the thunder, he did not bite. He quickly discovered the rain that accompanied the darkening conditions, lingering at the northeastern stretch of the track, along the second snail section, down the whole length of the back straight, and into the hairpin, however, as he cleared the hairpin, he saw the standing water dissipate, as the cloud had not fully enveloped the breadth of the circuit.

"I think we'll stay out, stay out." he breathlessly spoke into his earpiece. He was again getting fatigued, his lungs screaming at him to stop, but he couldn't stop now, not so close to the end. The twisty section, particularly between turns two and ten, were still mostly dry, and Xingke knew that anyone who switched to intermediates would be shedding far more time through this section than they would be gaining in the traction zones of thirteen and fourteen.

Of course, clouds did not stand still, they moved and would, just as they moved southwest to cover the eastern segment of the track, they would continue west, however they hadn't reached the two-through-ten complex yet, and as more and more cars peeled off into the pits, he felt more and more confident.

The rain was coming. But it hadn't arrived yet.

His pit crew continued to plead, however it was only with six laps to go that it became apparent that the wets were providing a better lap time than the dries, being faster in now a greater number of points on the track than the dry. Given how bunched up the field had been when the rain first arrived on the back straight, the pitting wet runners had fallen behind, and Xingke, the highest person at the time who had not pitted, now led the race, and with track conditions over the course of an entire lap more on his side than not, he had been pulling away from those behind him, though with the proviso that he to stop to eventually put on wets.

However, would this drastic overcut see him take the lead? He had only been five seconds off the lead when he head of the pack, Gino Weinberg, had first put on the intermediate wet tyres, such was the compressed grid, but had he pulled out five seconds? Had he, had he…? He pulled out of the pit lane, with a fresh set of intermediate boots, and just as he turned into the first corner, he saw Gino just leaving it.

He was within two seconds of Gino, he had the fresher tyres, and the faster car. Xingke smiled as he throttled through the curve, before tappeting the throttle to keep the revs up out of the corner, and set off in hot pursuit.

He had five laps to overtake one car.

With the fresher rubber, Xingke made short work of Gino, stalking him through the sharper and sharper bends, closing up, closing up, until Xingke finally struck. Getting a monstrous exit out of turn ten, he pulled deep to the inside and sailed ahead of Gino.

And that was all she wrote. He had gone from last to first, and completed the job with four laps to spare. The rest of the race was just letting the string play out, as he was the fastest man on track as he crossed the line, flying past the weeping man at the chequered flag, to win his home Grand Prix, the Chinese Grand Prix!

Xingke immediately exploded, using the last dregs of his energy to let his arms and shoulders fly out past the pillars on either side of his head, and, seatbelt unbuckled, raise his torso out of the cocoon of a cockpit, flaying his arms upwards in mad celebration. He had actually won his home bloody race! Not only that, but after Monaco, after breaking down in Qualifying, to bloody win! He almost jumped out of his car, with both hands off the wheel, resting his elbow on the pillar as a mount to prop his torso up and out of the chasm, with all his body up to his waist, as his off arm triumphantly waved the five starred red flag, as he roared his last spats of oxygen and blood.

He only brought his hands down to earth to steer wherever corners were imminent, but his in lap was simply spent in mad celebration, both hands fluttering about the sky in jubilant, until he settled his car in the slot under the podium, placed the wheel on his nose, before he jumped out of the car and leapt into the arms of his team. He felt his hair be ruffled by a hundred hands as the sheer energy of the entire team was conducted into him as they embraced.

And the tears, god he was crying. He could only chuckle as the waterworks streamed down his face like the Yangtze.

He had done it.

They parted, allowing Xingke to catch his breath, before Gino, who had had to settle for second for the third time in five races and had maintained his podium streak, slapped him in the back, causing Xingke to turn, and shake hands with the Briton, before the third place finisher joined them, which was, to Xingke's surprise, Naoto, who had somehow come back from pitting after being caught behind the safety car, overtaking some seven cars in fourteen laps, likely with the same 'wait it out' approach to rain strategy as him. Xingke, who was doing his best to hide the fact that he was physically shattered, simply hugged Naoto as they exchanged compliments.

Nodding, they all moved towards the cooldown room in the brief period before the podium, where the television was displaying the finish. Obviously, it had Xingke, followed by Gino and Naoto, before the lineup took a turn.

Fourth was Kallen, who like Xingke had had to deliver an immense comeback drive, who had passed Suzaku on the second-to-last corner of the last lap, ahead of Rolo, who finished behind his teammate for the first time this season out of races where they both saw the chequered flag, and then Tohdoh. Curious, Xingke turned to Naoto and posited a question.

"Did the team know what would happen by pitting Tohdoh first and making you go around and catch the back of the safety car?"

"Yeah, they said that it would." Naoto breathlessly nodded. "Tohdoh's the faster car they said, so they had to give him preference."

"You were at like forty points, he was barely pushing twenty." Xingke frowned.

Naoto looked terse, pursing his lips, before responding "Well, that's what they said."

"How did you overtake him? I presume they didn't roll out the welcome mat."

"They instructed me to hold position." Naoto nodded.

"Well then you must be lost, Tohdoh finished third, if I'm to believe that."

Naoto suppressed a chuckle, silently conceding the point, before they were invited up to the podium. Naoto's cheeky move on Tohdoh, followed by his charge through the field from ninth to third having a strategy similar to Xingke's had taken him from forty points to fifty-five. However, he was still some ways behind the second placed man Gino, who sat pretty at eighty-four points, one of only two men to not finish off the podium. The other man, of course, was Xingke himself, who had built up one hundred and eighteen points with four wins and a second.

Interestingly, Naoto's fifty-five points put him now exactly level with his sister Kallens' fifty five points, the pair now positioned in joint third. Tohdoh, Naoto's teammate, was at thirty six points, nineteen behind Naoto, and the Schwarzenritters of Rolo and Suzaku, who, as an aside, Xingke noted were now being referred to in the press in that order, respectively sat at thirty six and thirty two points, finishing fifth and sixth, Suzaku for only the second time ahead of Rolo at the flag.

However, Xingke didn't care. As he ran up to the podium, he saw thousands of wǔxīng hóngqí being waved madly and held to attention by the furious winds. They were mounted atop Poles almost fifty meters long, as the entire crowd celebrated in unison, ecstatic. As Gino and Naoto joined him for the third time that season, he stood to attention for his national anthem, played for both the winning driver and winning constructor. As the first trumpets soared, Xingke stood on the top step and looked out over the stadium ahead, his breath weak and light as his heart sat lodged in his throat. This was the first time this anthem had been played at this race, the March of the Volunteers, and as he mouthed along to the words, the tears continued to flow through the simply overwhelming emotion.

As he leaned his head back, he let the tears streak down his face as he soaked in the joy. He had bloody well done it! After so many years of trying, after so much time spent in frustrated hope, it had finally happened!

And just in time too.

* * *

 **谢谢您们!** **您们** **都很棒,** **谢谢** ** **您们** 的阅读, 如果您喜欢这个, 请评论一下！再见!**

~ **吉勒**


	49. OK49 - If Tyres Could Weep

**OK Number 49 - If Tyres Could Weep**

* * *

While Xingke was in tears up on the podium, with the shot of him with his face aimed towards the sky, eyes closed, and hands paired behind his back immediately taking off on social media as race defining, Naoto was leaving the podium and would return to the briefing room of the Rebellion racing team, pleased with having gotten the podium, but knowing what would come.

When he arrived, on the floor above the garage with big windows facing out towards the track and blinds firmly, unambiguously shut, it appeared the whole gang was already here. Taizo Kirihara, team leader and manager. Olivia Reuel and Kaname Ohgi, race engineers for Tohdoh and Naoto respectively. Rakshata Chawla, designer and chief engineer of the Type-2/F20 Seiten. Tohdoh himself, of course. Suits, plenty of suits, likely stakeholders, with an intense interest in seeing their investment yield a return.

Well, that was just perfect. Naoto shook his head as he sighed and sat in the free seat closest to the door.

"Did I provide you with an invitation to sit?"

Naoto looked up and saw Kirihara looking across disapprovingly, though Naoto did not understand. He had busted his gut out on track, and was exhausted, not to mention drenched in sweat. Naoto could only look up through his fringe, having to take a moments breath before he could empty his lungs to reply.

"No, you didn't."

Naoto would not have given a tenth of this cheek in his first stint with Rebellion, however some time away from the sport to reflect on what could have happened if he had been more assertive combined with his frustration at not being pitted ahead of Tohdoh had allowed his spine to develop in tandem with his leg.

Of course, while Xingke was innocently asking about the pit fiasco, Naoto made a point of sparing the teams blushes, however he was still cross in private, and so provided no physical response to Kirihara's implicit request, summarily "Get out of that chair until I tell you to sit, boy."

As Naoto tiredly glared, slumped deep into the seat, Kirihara, clearly irked, adjusted his tie before commenting "So as I was saying, while there continues to be disappointment on the performance front, Tohdoh is continually regaining his former pace, and closing the gap not just to Naoto, but more importantly to the pack ahead."

"He was in eighth when you made that call to pit him ahead of me in first."

"Naoto, I know. But Tohdoh has a far better history of performing over a season, and to maximise our points, we must prioritise our strategy to maximise his potential to perform."

"But I was in the lead, I was ahead!" Naoto responded, almost lazily in its vocal intensity considering the content and context. "I've been ahead through the season, so much that I'm nearly twenty points ahead."

"So you want to go the route of your sister and try to assert yourself as the new big boss?" Taizo chuckled. "What, were you jealous at how easily she came in and took over? You yourself conceded that our priority should lie in facilitating Tohdoh when you first arrived at this team four years ago. You accepted it without question, because you knew then that Tohdoh was the faster driver. Or what, has Kallen stirred up a bit of spunk in you, and you want to take after her? What'll you be doing next, assaulting Tohdoh?"

Naoto was initially enraged, somehow finding it in himself to stand bolt upright in outrage, both in the characterisation of him as some sort of doormat, and in the subsequent comparison of him having now taken a stand to what his sister had done.

However, he backed off, and slowly sat back down. The comparisons would come too easily if he lost his temper, and he wasn't good enough to do what Kallen had. Nor did he want to.

"Heh. Good, good, you know what's good for you. We could always depend on you to be a reliable number two. Or at least, we did before. But today, you disobeyed an instruction to hold position. You were told to not overtake Tohdoh and hold him up, and yet you did. Why did you do that?"

"With respect, Taizo…" Tohdoh sighed, as uncomfortable as Kallen had mentioned him being whenever team politics came up, "He finished on the podium. He did not hold me up at all."

"While that may have been true in this individual instance, Tohdoh, you have a far deeper breadth of experience, and, at the time the decision was made, we had no way of knowing how your respective races would transpire from then on."

"But you did." Tohdoh replied. "He had kept Gino behind him for the entire length of the race and was leading the pack. I was fighting in the lower rungs of the points. The correct move was to give him pit priority, and not catch the back of the safety car."

Tohdoh had worked himself up into quite an uncharacteristic fervour, now standing in a similar fashion to how Naoto had, shooting up from a seated position, albeit less suddenly. Naoto himself wasn't sure how to think about all of this. He was cross about being done over by the strategy, of course, however he didn't want to make a fuss, or perhaps more presciently risk his seat by complaining quite as strongly as Tohdoh was.

As well, he wasn't anything like as self-assured as his sister had been when she confronted these team orders. In Naoto's eyes, her style had reached its natural culmination when she had battered Lelouch. Naoto was not nearly as confrontational, which was exacerbated by his internal fear of not being able to back up a potential request for priority with the pace that would be expected of a driver who was leading the team. Imposter syndrome or whatever, Naoto still didn't quite believe he was legitimately faster than Tohdoh.

However, while Naoto didn't believe in himself enough to assert himself, Tohdoh certainly did. Having calmed himself, the 2013 and 2014 world champion sighed and continued "I want this team to succeed, and it won't do that it we keep hamstringing the one driver doing a good job out there." "I don't know why I'm not on the pace. Maybe Naoto has gotten much better with his time spent away from the car, for which I can only congratulate him. I don't feel as if I'm much worse, which means that may well be the case. But for whatever reason, I'm not at the cutting edge of what can be extracted from this car. Our priority should go to the driver that is, not the driver who was when we were first teamed together."

Taizo laughed, responding "Are you saying you're now slow, that you've lost your touch? I don't believe that for a second."

"Or maybe Naoto's found his!" Tohdoh snarled. "I mean, for gods sake, form can ebb and flow. Kallen was okay in 2017, horrible in the first half of '18 and untouchable in the second half. The decision to make him the second driver was made before he'd turned a wheel, in both our first stint and our second. I won two titles for you, and you assumed I was at the peak. When Naoto arrived, you leapt straight to assuming he was less skilled than me, without any comparative testing. You did the same with Kallen, which was nearly one of the greatest missed opportunities of this generation, regardless of what you think of what ultimately came of her."

"How noble of you." sneered Taizo, sceptical about this entire enterprise. "So what, do you just want us to hand over the advantage to whoever's in front, and waste points? Favour him one day, you the next, and then him again and then you? There's no reason to what you're saying."

Tohdoh nearly exploded, at least if one judged by the colour of his face and his clenched fingers forming not-quite-fists. That being said, reactor four had just about been kept cool enough, and Tohdoh, tried to explain his thesis as calmly as he was able to.

"If you took the times Kallen finished in front of Lelouch and the times Lelouch finished in front of Kallen and added them together, you would have stomped the WDC last year. Kururugi wouldn't have had a chance. There's no issue I can see with favouring the faster driver with strategies once you're far enough into the season to work out who that is. But you went into this season already having chosen who you would favour, and aren't adjusting to the facts on the ground."

Taizo fell into something of a fluster, likely embarrassed at being contradicted by his lead driver, replying "What are you saying?"

"I'm sure Naoto will agree." Tohdoh responded firmly. "He's almost at twice my points, and while I will go hammer and tongs to get as many points as I can, right now Naoto is our best shot at the WDC, whether you, or me, or the sponsors, or Shinji from marketing likes it or not. If a team isn't adjusting its priorities and approach when the situation changes, that team is not going to win championships, and it's not a team I want to be a part of. "

Taizo looked absolutely terrified as he whispered "What… are you quitting?"

"No, but I want to be in a team that wins, which means a team that adapts quickly. Naoto has been faster. He's much closer to Xingke than I am. You hired him to be fast, now let him be fast."

The manager blinked several times, completely thrown off his momentum before clearing his throat awkwardly, trying to hurry past Tohdoh's berating of him by moving on to "Well, that is taken care of I suppose, unless Naoto has anything more to say. Do you?"

"No sir, I don't."

"Right. So, Rakshata, to the technical report."

The meeting carried on with something of a hush, as the entire room quietly returned to work, no one wanting to acknowledge what had happened. They left without exchanging goodbyes, as Naoto walked awkwardly down towards his trailer, not entirely willing to make eye contact with any of the people he passed, who could well be furious with him. However, he didn't find out before arriving at the trailer, before dipping his head into the sink to try and clear away the built up masses of sweat

He took a moment to look into the sink, however he was interrupted by a knocking on his door, followed by a faint voice explaining "It's Tohdoh."

Naoto sighed, before responding that he could come in. It was indeed Tohdoh, who made his way over to the side and sat on the stool opposite the sink. Tohdoh looked aside, before clearing his throat, taking the initiative, and starting the conversation.

"Hey there."

It wasn't much, but a little momentum could go a long way. Naoto looked up from the sink, and simply responded with a blunt "Evening."

"I could tell you didn't want to say that, so I thought I'd take the heat." Tohdoh nodded, before adopting a stern, almost fatherly look. "You should stand up for yourself."

"What are you, my sister?" Naoto chuckled, though he was only smiling on the surface. Naoto inside was terrified. For half a decade, Naoto had watched Tohdoh eat the grid alive with a muscular grouchiness, and upon arriving, this message had been explicitly reinforced. There was a clear message; Naoto was not as good as Tohdoh. Shaking his head, he allowed his smile to fade, before he finally opened up.

"I'm not… I haven't won titles, you did. Why did you say those things about me? Why did you puff me up? You were the one who stood to gain?"

"That last part is easy." Tohdoh immediately responded. "I want the team to do well. I don't much mind who's making them do well, just so long as it's done. If I can lead the charge, I'm over the moon. If I'm needed to play second fiddle to safeguard it, then I'll be the best number two in the world. The team is bigger than me, and I can't be selfish."

As Naoto basked in what was pretty unambiguous selflessness, which was definitely a first for Tohdoh as far as Naoto had observed and leant towards the conclusion that the decision to prioritise Tohdoh came far more from Taizo than the driver himself, Tohdoh continued "As to why I believe you could do it… well let's look back. You did one year at Densō-Sakura, a backmarker team, and were seriously impressive given the machinery you had under you. They wouldn't have hired you if you weren't impressive. Then, as soon as you were hired here, you were immediately the second driver. You haven't won a title because you haven't had the chance to, the team hasn't allowed it."

Naoto frowned at the floor. Doubtless, it wasn't just him that had been affected by Kallen's stint at Rebellion; doubtless, being thrown off his perch would be quite humbling, and the time away might have contributed to a less self-centred view of the team. In either case, Tohdoh continued "But the thing is, for whatever reason, you have had the measure of me this year, and our WDC, if we're to fight for it… it lies in your hands now."

So no pressure then, Naoto chuckled internally. He tried to breathe out, however the air came out shaky. Could he live up to the trust that was being placed in him? God, Naoto wished he could be an ounce more confident in saying yes than he was.

Tohdoh didn't seem to notice this however, as he continued "Though I must ask… why are you faster? Where have you found the pace? You're a much better driver now."

Naoto didn't answer initially, only able to stare back for a good ten seconds, before having to look away, hiding a self-directed cringe. Now that it was all laid out, he knew why, and it was grossly pathetic, not befitting a driver at this level, let alone one charged with leading the teams hunt for a title.

God he was so weak.

"I… I didn't know I could. I was just so dispirited. As I became your teammate, I didn't, couldn't believe that I was as good as you, could challenge you. It became self-fulfilling, and I just internalised it. I just internalised that I was the number two driver, that I was to toe the line and support your fight. I stopped enjoying it, I was just so discouraged, I never reached anything close to that first season again. I never believed I could. I would have quit if I hadn't needed to support Kallen. Although look where that ended us, heh."

Tohdoh looked horrified, whispering in sudden realisation "Oh god, why didn't you say something?"

"What good would that have done?" Naoto replied, snapping back and for the first time losing his patience. "Rebellion realises they've got a mental case on their hands and drop me like I'm hot water? I couldn't…"

Tohdoh paused to allow Naoto to shake his head, and gather himself into some more appropriate shape than a shaking mess, before asking "Why did you come back?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm a masochist, heh."

But Naoto did know. As much as he despised Kallen now, wished her nothing but the worst of fortunes for what she had done on such a mild provocation, he couldn't deny reality. Seeing Kallen make Tohdoh bleed on track, beating him over a season with two less races, it did present Tohdoh as less of an unbeatable titan, revealing him to be vulnerable to attack given a certain set of inputs. It defeated the illusion of the Tohdoh that was beyond reach, and presented a new one of him being within reach, whether that was ultimately true or not.

Kallen had shown the way, whether he liked it or not. But, while he couldn't deny reality, he didn't have to admit it openly either.

"So what are you going to do?"

Naoto sighed and looked down. No. He didn't have Kallen's verve. He couldn't match what she had done, let alone what Tohdoh had done. He let out a sigh, before confessing the truth.

"I'm not as fast as you, Tohdoh. I'm so sorry, I'm just not. I've lucked into the results I've had this season, I'm… I'm sorry to let you down, the team down, you've just put all this on me, and… I'm not as fast as you. I'm not the one who should be leading this team, I'm not good enough."

Tohdoh, for some reason, chuckled at this, nodding "No, you're not as fast as me."

Naoto's head snapped back up, eyes blinking furiously as Tohdoh moved towards the door, pulling out a cigarette to get a bit of relief once he left. As he opened it, he looked back and smiled.

"You had an emotional handicap when we first matched up, and I was only just ahead of you. Right now? With a bit of confidence, and the team properly behind you? You're not just as fast as me, no chance. You're even faster."

* * *

Tohdoh's words, whether true or not, seemed to have borne fruit, as in the Canadian Grand Prix Naoto managed to qualify his Rebellion on the front row, qualifying four tenths behind Xingke to start second, and retained that position from lights to flag, getting his highest finish of the season so far in retaining that second. From his perspective, it had been a dull race; the importance of traction zones out of turns two and ten out of the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve meant that Xingke's tyre advantage contributed to him falling behind, and yet the car was agile enough through the chicanes, particularly that of thirteen and fourteen, to not be troubled by the chasing pack. However, the stranglehold on the podium held by Xingke, Gino and Naoto, having occurred in three out of five previous races, was unsettled, with Gino being displaced by his teammate Kallen, who took up the bottom step in third.

The podium was certainly

The Rebellions, with their first major upgrades of the year, finished fourth and fifth, Suzaku from Rolo, for their highest cumulative points score in a single race since their incorporation as they picked up twelve and ten respectively. Gino had been running fourth for a time, until he had a blowout that dropped him to sixth as he pitted. It took all his skill to not slam into the wall out of turn nine, which raised concerns about tyre safety once again.

These discussions were not dampened by the next race in Austria.

It started off reasonably well; it was an all Kōzuki front row, Kallen from Naoto, with Xingke having to be satisfied with third, as the track was far shorter and faster, with throttle modulation and acceleration being far more important out of the incredibly short radius corners, as opposed to the long radius corners that could not be taken flat out where Xingke made up the bulk of his time over the competition. For the first twenty laps, Kallen managed to hold off the attack from behind, however the nature of the track was such that slipstream and DRS mania was the order of the day, as they switched and swapped places, as stuck together as glue.

And then Kallen's tyre blew up.

It was not undramatic either; her front left would have given a hand grenade a run for its money in both the fragmentation of the rubber and terrifying bang. Helpless, Kallen could only brace for the wall out of turn eight, pressing her crossed arms over her chest as her nose streaked into the Armco at racing speed. She was unharmed, protected by the safety cell, however what nobody realised was that this was just the start.

The next to bite the dust was Kyoshiro Tohdoh, losing his right rear tyre and spinning uncontrollably off the track and lodging his rear spoiler into the tyre barrier after turn four. However, it was not until Xingke lost his front left out of nine and flew over the sausage kerbs as he speared out of the grip limited double apex set of downhill, cambered corners, running headlong into the Armco past turn ten barely twenty meters from where Kallen's car came to its final resting place that the first safety car was brought out to bring order to the track and extract the stranded cars.

It would not be the last safety car.

With both Xingke and Kallen out, Naoto looked set to win the race, being the only car left with the pace of the front runners, which would confirm Tohdoh's faith in him. However, while the Asian's faith in Naoto's driving may or may not have been well founded, his faith in Naoto's tyres was a bit optimistic, as they blew out with twenty laps to go, twelve laps after they had first been strapped on.

With Naoto stuck in the turn four Armco, another safety car was called out to ensure that the marshals could retrieve the car. However, even this reduced pace did not save the tyres, as the lead car of Suzaku would discover, after watching his front right tyres self-destruct at what was practically walking pace. This would force him to pit just as the pack had bunched up, and would drop him to stone dead last.

This promoted Albert Darlton to the lead of the race, and given how many retirements had been happening, teams were taking no chances, pitting almost every ten laps to ensure no sudden failures. However, even this caution was not enough to save Albert Darlton from crashing out of the lead with a tyre failure, nor Luciano Bradley or Shinichiro Tamaki, as they all had sudden delaminations which prematurely ended their race. The upshot of which was that Gino Weinberg, on an eight stop strategy, won the race, stopping an average of once every nine laps. Second, earning Schwarzenritters first podium, was Rolo Lamperouge, a podium which was celebrated as if the team had won the world championship.

These were the only two drivers to finish on the lead lap. While Suzaku's efforts were noble, he was only able to climb from fifteenth to eleventh, out of twelve finishers. While it wasn't as bad as Hungary had been the previous year, clearly something was amiss, with Schwarzenritter being the only team to celebrate much of anything. Even Gino looked displeased at what had been a farcical race, complaining in post race interviews that the tyre manufacturers had "completely lost the plot".

While a meeting of the GPDA was scheduled immediately to determine where the drivers union stood on this, the championship implications were dramatic. Gino, with his first win of the year, took the lions share of the points, leaping up to one hundred and seventeen, putting him far ahead of Naoto's seventy three and within twenty six points of Xingke's hundred and forty three point total. Rolo, with his second place, was the only other major driver to make a big stride, moving from forty six to sixty four, which put him within six points of Kallen's seventy point tally.

So at this stage, it was Xingke leading at a hundred and forty three, ahead of Mister Consistent Gino Weinberg, who had been on the podium in every race except Canada, where he was sixth. He was at a hundred and seventeen, from Naoto at seventy three, from Kallen at seventy, from Rolo at sixty four, from Suzaku at forty four, which cemented this as an undeniably dismal title defence from the champion so far.

* * *

 **~G1ll3s**


	50. OK50 - Talking Union Blues

**OK Number 50 - Talking Union Blues**

* * *

Before the circus could move back to Silverstone, where the whole misadventure had kicked off back in 1950, it had to take a brief diversion back to Monte Carlo. As well as hosting one of the most iconic and enuring Grands Prix on the calender, not to mention a very substantial percentage of the worlds billionaire population, it was the headquarters of the Grand Prix Drivers Association. Founded in 1951, disbanded in 1982, and reformed in 1994 to represent driver's voices in regards to commercial agreements and safety.

Tyres exploding without prior warning or wear at speed? That was a safety issue if there ever was one, as Kallen and Tohdoh had experienced first hand, charging headlong into the barriers at full speed. Given the loss and control and the possibility of cars ploughing into the back of other cars, it was very possible for a driver to be seriously inured by having their exposed head run into a stricken car or a recovery tractor.

The new tyres were unquestionably to blame, it was simply unknown as to what the nature of the problem was, and what the possibility of switching back was. A two thirds majority of drivers could vote to overrule both the FIA rules committee and the unanimous agreement of the constructors, as was enumerated in the most recent Concorde agreement, in affairs ruled to be related to safety.

Leading what was functionally a trade union was the ever affable Gino Weinberg, as he chaired the meeting, with Rivalz keeping minutes as the secretary. The other sixteen drivers were assembled in concerned formation, alongside the last of the garagista's, the last relic of the eighties who was not quite finished with the cocaine just yet, Reuben Ashford, to provide a technical perspective. Given that his team was in the unique perspective of having nothing to gain, as opposed to the Geely and Rebellion technical directors who could greatly lose or greatly benefit respectively if the tyres were changed, he was the best they could get on the short notice they had. Gino cleared his throat, and the most recent race winner began to speak.

"The time now is seven minutes to two o'clock in the afternoon, on the twenty first of July 2019. Conducting the meeting will be myself, Gino Weinberg and keeping minutes will be secretary Rivalz Cardemonde. Present in abstract are all current drivers within Formula One who are members of this Association, with Ashford-RT team owner and chief engineer Reuben Ashford also present at our invitation. I will read out a list of drivers, when your name is called raise your hand and shout 'Here' so that we may have a quorum."

Gino then read a list of drivers in reverse championship order, with all twenty present except for Bradley, who had gotten into a heated argument and verbally harassed two members before deciding he was too good for 'these eejits' and burning his membership card, and Tohdoh, who simply wanted no part in any union. However, their lack of a presence would not detract from the enforceable unanimity of those that were present, and so, with eighteen members plus one guest, the meeting was gavelled in.

"On the agenda today is the discussion on the concerns regarding the tyres introduced for this competition year with a view to proposing a regulatory amendment under Article seventeen of the Concorde Agreement of 2013. Before we begin, it is necessary under the provisions of Article seventeen paragraph nine to dictate, for the purposes of facilitating such an amendment that this be ruled a safety concern. A unanimous vote is required. First, the yea's."

The entire room now rose their hands, murmouring noises of support. Gino scribbled into his notepad before saying "Now, the nay's."

Not a single hand, and the loudest noise in the room was probably the fan.

Gino smirked, before writing "Carried unanimously. Alright, I would like to provide five minutes of speaking time to Reuben Ashford to respond to questions you may have before the discussion and vote."

"I have a question." shot out a voice immediately, which it transpired was Kallen. "When my tyre deformed it was incredibly sudden in the change from intact to not, but as well they were reasonably fresh tyres. There had not been very significant wear on them that would lead to a loss in performance and the risk of a puncture. It wasn't overheating, it had no forewarning, it just gave out without indication of any weakness in the canvas that was not there the previous times I'd tried to take that corner at speed."

Gino nodded, seeing the question as fair, before presenting his palm towards Reuben, to give him full license to answer. Reuben pushed his glasses up his nose, before clearing his throat and beginning.

"So, the trouble here is construction. Since… maybe 2011 or 2012, definitely since refuelling has been banned, it was realised that pit stops are necessary to spice up races, make them interesting and strategic. Since the fuel element had been removed in the interests of safety, the mandate reached the tyre manufacturer, since by then there was only one tyre manufacturer providing a spec tyre for all cars, unlike how it used to be, and the FIA could order a tyre to its own liking, helping competition and so on, and in this instance it pushed for it to be high degradation, requiring multiple pit stops over the course of a race."

Gino nodded again. It was perhaps only himself, Tohdoh, though Tohdoh was not here, and Zhou that had been around before 2010, when refuelling was allowed, and this made perfect sense. Since the cars only carried enough fuel to go for perhaps twenty laps at best, there were few concerns about using tyre degradation as a means to incentivise pit stops, as cars did not contain enough fuel to go all the way through the race, and the strategy was in balancing the distance between stops for fuel and the average wet weight of the car through the race.

"There are two ways to have a tyre degrade, or to engineer degradation in performance into a tyres life cycle. There is heat based degradation and tread based degradation. Since this high degradation concept has been introduced, the tyre manufacturer has been directed to go for an approach of heat based degradation. As tyres repeatedly go through heat cycles, the rubber almost begins to effectively melt, and becomes incredibly slippery and the driver loses time. These tyres have a very narrow window of temperature in which they can give grip, and the older they are the more susceptible they are to going above this window, however the big advantage is that conservative driving can keep the tyre cool, and allow for fewer stops, leading to the strategic variance that the FIA wanted to maintain."

The entire room was silent now, as Reuben fell into his most natural mode; that of an absent-minded university lecturer.

"But this model had a major flaw. Heat can be conducted into a tyre by placing it under lateral and longitudinal stresses, of course, but it can also get hot by other means. Over the last two to three years in particular, the complex aerodynamic instruments on the front wing, barge board and diffuser conduct a lot of high energy air, which fuses with the heat coming out of the exhaust. This means that if a car is following closely behind another car, their tyres will be degrading at a rate disproportionate to the energy the tyre is conducting with the tarmac. They will be boiled in their casings with the hot wake of the car ahead, which disincentivised cars getting close to other cars and engaging in prolonged close battles. This was their fatal flaw; the fastest way to drive was as far away from other cars as you could get."

Reuben paused again, as Gino mulled over this. This year's tyres, no matter what else was said about them, definitely made following far more intuitive, however Ruben continued in his slow, meandering fashion.

"All of this resulted in the new tyre model for this year, that of mechanical wear, where elements of the tread would not get hot, but be literally ripped away from the tyre when under load. This would happen over a number of laps, until the tread was gone and the car rapidly lost pace. This required teams to rework their endplates for this year, as the priority was no longer to prevent the tyre from undergoing significant spikes in temperature, but to minimise the mechanical forces being put through them."

"So what is the problem?" a new voice, revealed to be Tamaki, interjected, before continuing "Cars can follow closer, that's all noble, but why are they blowing up now?"

"The turns at which the tyres have been exploding have universally been ones of high lateral grip loading. It appears that the tyre manufacturer took these loads into account when designing the tyres, so that undergoing this load once would not ruin them, however over several laps it would have degraded enough to have blunted performance. However, there was once again, a fatal flaw."

Reuben took his glasses off his face, and wiped at his eyes to clear them before he took a breath and dropped the key missing piece.

"The test cars for the tyre loading examinations were last years cars. Since there were no major rule changes, cars have universally received updates and improved specs since then, enabling them to take corners at higher speeds. There is a development war, after all. However, the tyres were not designed to go above the loads that they observed in regular running from 2018. These 2019 cars are too fast for the information they had and designed their tyres around."

At this point, Reuben seemed to be picking up pace as he approached his thesis, however he had to pause again, this time as he began coughing into his cloth. However, he recovered quickly, taking a short breath, waving off an offer of a second cloth before regathering momentum.

"This came to a head in Austria. Here, there was a second factor that tipped the balance. Since we were last here in 2018, the track had been resurfaced. It had undergone diamond grinding, with grooves perpendicular to the racing line. This was unknown to the tyre manufacturers, and enabled drivers to go far far faster than they had the previous year, beyond even what the upgrades in the intervening twelve months would have induced. The speed, and more importantly the energy the tyres conducted during changes in momentum vectors, that the cars would be carrying through corners was too high, and the tyres were liable to completely split apart down their central axis at any given moment following a grip limited corner, even if the tyre had not undergone prior wear."

Reuben finally finished, leaving a silence in the room, as everyone absorbed the information. Seeing no one else get the ball rolling, Gino cleared the throat and began.

"Speaking as a driver, if that's the case, the tyres aren't up to spec with regards to durability. We should go back to last years rubber, it might be bad for racing, but it doesn't snap if you put more load into it than they factored for, it just wears much faster."

"We can't go back to last years rubber." spoke Xingke, with uncharacteristic urgency. "These tyres are completely different to last years. This years cars have been designed to account for these tyres, and heat sensitive tyres will be baked before they have even done a lap in these cars. The front wings don't diffuse hot air nearly as well as they did last year."

"Easy for you to say."

The line came from Naoto, who Gino had observed as being recently emboldened both on and off track, and it was followed by his countryman, Suzaku Kururugi, who interrupted Xingke before he had a chance to reply, clearly agitated.

"Yeah, you're just trying to keep us all on the tyres that are giving you the advantage!"

"Suzaku, please." Gino tried to reason, as he tried to regain control the room. "Let him speak, let him speak."

Xingke now fully turned his chair around to face the reigning champion, staring him down fiercely before asking "Suzaku, what team do you drive for?"

"Schwarzenritter-Lamperouge, why?"

Xingke did not blink or break eye contact while he followed up with "Why is it not Rosenberg Suzaku? What happened?"

Suzaku frowned confusedly, before answering "ASEEC cited overwhelming costs to keep the cars current and the almost yearly shifts in spec parts and regulations, and pulled the plug. Rolo's older brother had to save the project, otherwise it would have gone under."

"Exactly. And what you're proposing, Suzaku Kururugi, and now correct me if I am wrong, is to revamp the rules for the second time this season at immense cost to already strapped teams, incurring a cost they had not budgeted for and had no way to expect?"

Suzaku's face dropped like a stone, and out of some sympathy, Gino tried to bail him out by asking "How long do you think the changes would take, Reuben?"

Reuben paused to consider the question, before musing "Well, we could just strap on last years front wings, which will generally do the job of shifting hot air out of the path of the tyre, however the body of this years car has been shaped to pick up the airflow off of the front wing as it exists right now. Having the front end of a 2018 car and the body shape of a 2019 car will result in significant imbalance, and going full 2019 will result in extreme tyre wear. The only feasible option is to tough it out through the high tyre wear in the 2019 chassis until an upgrade arrives, which will make for a faster car, but need more pit stops, or just go back fully to the 2018 spec, which isn't as advanced as this years. As to how long you'd need to wait… I'd guess until maybe Japan or Korea, in five or six races time."

The room was silent once again, as the room thought through the implications. Xingke was always going to vote no, and probably with pressure from the team so would Zhou, but they only needed twelve drivers to cement the motion. However, would some people want to chance their arm at tyres they knew? Gino didn't know.

"Last question." Naoto said, speaking up. "In your professional opinion, are these tyres safe to drive?"

"Hell no." Reuben responded, instantly. "If these tyres are still the mandatory spec for the next race in Britain, there will be no Ashford-RT cars or drivers on the grid. I won't risk having whatever may come from that on my conscience."

This seemed to be the first time Rivalz had been told this, which made for an absolutely hilarious facial expression, however many of the undecided faces were not undecided anymore.

"I think we are ready to vote."

Xingke looked glum, however Gino continued, noting "All those in favour of keeping the specification of tyres currently in place under the current FIA regulations?"

Xingke and Zhou dutifully raised their arms.

After a moment, Suzaku sighed and joined them, likely not prepared to lead to another Schneizel situation. However, his voice would likely be drowned out.

Gino took the names, before continuing "All in favour of reintroducing the specification of last season?"

The hands flew up, and Gino had quite the job of keeping track of the exact number as he totted them up. At the end of the head count, he reached sixteen, noting both Ashfords, both B.A.R's, both Vanwalls, both Densō's, Kallen, Rolo, Naoto and Nu, with Gino was counting his own vote separately.

"Carried, sixteen to two, no absentions. The provision regarding the competencies of the GPDA within the 2013 Concorde agreement stated that a decision on safety may be implemented if it received a majority of two thirds of committed voting members. Let it be recorded in the minutes that a resolution to the effect described will be presented and implemented in accordance with the pursuant regulations. If no one has other matters to address, this meeting will be adjourned."

* * *

So now, the decision of the teams was as follows; did they accept running a slower car from the previous year, as it had been designed around these tyres and would respond well to them, or to stick with the 2019 cars, which would on paper be faster, however if they did not mesh with the 2018 tyres, it would be the equivalent of an Olympic runner trying to win a race in uggs.

The only team which was not left with a choice was Schwarzenritter, as the deal which saved their assets, which became effective on the 2nd of January had only given Lelouch rights over the employees and long term assets, not the cars and research already produced, which would be sold to satisfy the outstanding debt. While at the time, the primary concern had been that the 2019 car's concepts would be lost and they would have to start from scratch, there was now a second issue; they didn't have their 2018 car available to them, and so had no choice but to keep to the car they had been using.

However, the choice remained open for every other team. Rebellion and, as an extension of the nature of the insolvency proceedings, Schwarzenritter, were keeping to their 2019 cars, while B.A.R, Ashford, Lancer, Densō, Vanwall, Geely, and SoftRola GP were reverting back to the 2018 spec.

Camelot was the last team left undecided, which was the subject of the meeting in Northamptonshire, the Monday before the British Grand Prix. It was only lucky that the first race after the Monaco meeting was in Britain, the home base of almost every team, making the transport much easier given the short notice. Cars were generally transported over a week in advance, and the six days would not have normally been enough to organise the new cars and ship them across to the track in time for Thursday scrutineering if it weren't a short drive down the road for every team, excepting Rebellion, Geely and Densō.

However, while the teams would be able to make the date without issue, deciding on which car to choose was still an issue for Camelot, as Kallen sat opposite the engineering heads, shaking her head out of frustration as the two parties seemed to be speaking different languages.

"I would like to stay with the 2019 chassis."

"Gino has agreed with the strategy team and we are going back to the 2018 spec. He is the senior driver, he has been here for several years, and is ahead of you in this championship with one hundred and seventeen to seventy. He gets to make this call."

Kallen sighed, placing her palm against her face. They had been at this for an hour, and there was not an ounce of progress apparent. Growing increasingly irritable, she shook her head and tried again.

"Sure, he can make that shout for his car, but the rules don't state that the two cars have to be of a similar spec, only a similar livery. Give one of the 2018 cars a lick of paint and hand it off to Gino, and I'll keep mine. It's not an issue."

However, the suits did not budge, replying drily, almost on autopilot, that "The strategy team has crunched the numbers, and your race time will be fourteen seconds faster if you join Gino on the 2018 car, because you'll be making so many pit stops. It's the faster strategy."

Kallen was not amused in the slightest. Yes, it might finish the race faster, but it might also make Kallen eighty six percent more likely to fall asleep behind the wheel for being so dull, or pull the car over and find some better way to spend her time. This was the fastest series in the world, the top formula, and these jokers were talking about how important going slowly was? Up to the last thread of patience, she rolled her eyes, and replied, her tongue laced with sarcasm.

"Ah yes, the immortal science where going slower is secretly the way you go fast. Why not go fast to go fast? We're racers, for heaven's sake. If I wanted to work with numbers I'd have become an accountant. If you take away the joy of driving it, the joy of pushing the limits on track and feeling the rubber on that boundary between having grip and not, then what on Earth's the point?"

However, the machine did not speak the language of frustrated passion, as they robotically shook their heads, replying "No, we can't do that, the car was not designed to do this. We are not inclined in that direction at all. Kallen, you would have to either stop an inordinate amount of times or drive quite slowly, and we know how you feel about the latter. The strategy team is against this."

Kallen clenched her fists and could have sworn she felt her internal temperature rise. She could tell them what she wanted until she was blue in the face, and they would just continue to stare at her confusedly and repeat functionally the same talking point until she waved the white flag.

Just about holding back from biting their heads off, she sighed again and asked "Which is faster, 2018 or 2019? Which will post a better lap time on maximum attack?"

"This years car, we expect, but you'll have to be doing twice the amount of pit stops, which will drop you right through the pack. You'll have to be going around at safety car speeds to keep the tyres from melting in their casings, either that or stopping a lot and making dozens of overtakes, and we're not inclined in the latter direction."

Kallen, now out of patience, snapped back "Well then get inclined, because that's the one I'm going with."

With the engineering heads seeming to grow agitated in tandem with Kallen, they wiped at their foreheads before pointing their hands at her and trying "Kallen, can you please just-"

"Look, if Gino wants to be tootling about in his 2018 car he's welcome to." Kallen replied sharply, growing furious, moving from a sat position to a standing stature.

Taking a breath, she grew and roared "But I'm just sick and tired of hearing all this crap about tyres, everyone complaining about how they're going to have to be so gentle on the tyres to get them to the end, and I'm sorry, I'm sick to death of it all. Just stick up the finger to the lot of them and strap on as many tyres as I need. Everyone's complaining they'll barely be able to keep it at a two stopper if they just about stretch, crawl about the track on the hardest compounds, moving at six miles an hour. Sod it! Go with a three stop, a four stop even! Let's be fast, tell me to go fast and I'll do it, but don't dare tell me to settle for a slower car, or trundle about on a slower strategy! For gods sake, I don't know what you're all here to do, but I'm here to go quickly!"

She ran out of breath and stopped, and only then took account of the room. She was now towering over the engineering heads, leaning forward and almost shouting at this point. She took a look around, and saw all the people in the room staring at her, having left their own tasks alone to watch her yell at these engineers.

And the back of her hand was wound up, outstretched in front of her torso.

She backed off immediately, looked at the engineers, at her hand, then back at the engineer. She swore, before cringing aside.

"Back to square one."

* * *

 **Unfortunately so. Therapy and recovery is not a straightline progression upwards. People relapse, they fall back, their mental health regresses, and the notion of a line up and out, straight as an arrow aimed to the sky, is unrealistic and unfortunate. The journey is never straightforward.**

 **Last chapter reviews wondered if there was a deliberate attempt to sabotage the tyres, so I hope I addressed this here. Don't assign to malice what can be explained with incompetence, as they say.**

 **Again, thank you so much, and if you could spare the time to review, that would absolutely make my day.**

 **~G1ll3s**


	51. OK51 - Where There's Tea, There's Hope

**OK51 - Where There's Tea, There's Hope**

* * *

"So today had its ups and downs."

"Oh do bugger off, it was awful."

Euphemia laughed, waving it off, which certainly went quite a degree towards rubbing Kallen entirely the wrong way, however Kallen was, as well as being tired of the entire discussion of tyres and having to conserve them, was tired of getting herself into deep water by losing her temper, and at this point was consciously trying to keep her blood pressure low, sinking into the chair to try and cool her muscles, slow her breathing, anything to allow her to cool off, as if this temporary solution would make any steps towards

They were back in Euphemia's office, cluttered as ever, with Euphemia having been summoned to an emergency conflab requested by Kallen herself, who felt hollow after such a regression

"Before we start, because this is quite impromptu, and I've not quite got my entire house in order just yet, do you remember the thermometer? The anger thermometer?"

Kallen nodded, replying "Yes. This was about an eight out of ten."

"Goodness. That's quite a bit." Euphemia whispered, raising her eyebrows. "Was there no warning ahead of time?"

"I guess there was, but I couldn't…" Kallen began, before she stiffened her fingers in frustration and shook them. "I couldn't leave that situation without conceding the point, without them doing with my car I didn't want them to. They'd take my leaving as a concession, which couldn't happen."

"Was it worth that much to you? Risking a repeat of Brazil?"

Kallen let an immense breath out, before shaking her head and stuttering "I don't know. I don't think so, but I was just…"

Kallen rubbed her eyes, sighing and starting again.

"There are all these… tyre complaints, the manufacturer is taking flak, and there's a big issue with tyre conservation… and… I'm tired of it. I kinda just want to say, 'screw it', and just drive as fast as I can. It's just so frustrating, and I just want to show up these people. I just want to rock up, consume six sets of tyres, and just have a good time driving flat out, and win the race my way."

Euphemia nodded, replying "I remember you saying it was the speed. If someone is trying to take that away, does that make you cross?"

"Yeah. If they take away the thing I enjoy about it, the… the feel, the control just at the limit it just kills me. It's the reason I do this, why I don't just roll over in bed when the alarm goes off."

As Euphemia noted this, Kallen chuckled, snorting "Me and a drug addict- spot the difference."

"Anger when someone threatens their high, hmm, I wonder… nah, I'm just kidding, relax." Euphemia laughed, as Kallen put on a face at how quickly Euphemia had accepted Kallen's thesis that she was just living from endorphin high to endorphin high, shuffling through the off-race weeks before recharging whenever she sat in a car. Moving on with a smile, the therapist changed the topic to a new one, clearing her throating and transferring to discussion mode.

"Everyone experiences anger—it's a completely normal emotion, and it's healthy within limits. It can even be a force for good. This sport wouldn't be anything like as safe as it is now without a good amount of anger, especially back in the nineties in response to drivers deaths. But as we know, anger can become a problem when it gets out of control. When is anger healthy, and when does it become unhealthy or harmful?"

"When it's healthy… it would be something like if someone was threatening your family, or your country." Kallen eventually murmured, quite uncertain, before reaching an example she liked and perking up. "I don't remember much from school, I was truant quite a bit, but one element that stuck out was the Korean and Manchu Independence Movement, from the Shōwa period. Resistance there… if things had shaken out differently, and I was born in a time and place like that, I'd be absolutely livid, and I think I'd be right to."

"Valid." Euphemia nodded, presenting an understanding face as she took more notes. "But this is hardly colonial occupation, it's the team not putting you in the car you want. Steady on."

"You asked for an example of justified anger, I don't think either of us believe today's outburst was justified."

Euphemia now frowned, before pointing her pen at Kallen and asking "Then why didn't you stop it? You had the techniques, we've gone over them."

"I know, I know…" Kallen sighed, shaking her head. She tried to verbalise, before shaking her two hands in front of her in frustration. Exasperated, she gave up and tried honesty.

"I just… I need to win. I will do anything. After last year, when Lelouch… I've been working myself to the bone, studying, exercising, practically camping out in the sim, and when these folks just get in the way with what I think will win us races, it's... it rankles. They don't do anything. They don't drive the car. They're accountants, and, despite putting in no effort, not lifting a finger to help us, they just block my request. It's so frustrating, and I wasn't conscious of it. I didn't realise it was taking hold until, well I had shouted my peace."

Euphemia, with eyebrows up in the next floor, scribbled away, before vaguely replying "Well, that was a lot. Now first off, two of my mates are down in engineering, and I'll just take a second to defend them. They're the lads and lasses who make sure you're sitting on Pole and not in the post office to collect your dole. They put a lot of work into getting this team the fastest package it can on the technical end, just like you do on the human end. Just because you're wound up doesn't mean they're just bean counters."

Kallen harrumphed, as Euphemia shook her head and sighed "Look, I'm sorry, but there's no getting around it. You are a second driver. You don't have the clout Gino does, and I know that rankles you. Cornelia used to talk all about your scraps with Tohdoh back at Rebellion. Speaking of, I'm gonna have to run some stories by you to see what which were truth and fiction, but anyway, Gino had to wait behind my sister in the same way you are for four years. She called all the shots on the car, because she was more experienced and familiar with the team personal. He's done his time and paid his dues, and he now is the senior person on the driving front. Now, hopefully that won't lead to any big material consequences through the year, it's not written into contracts, but its places like here where it does have an effect. How do you think Gino would feel if he was this patient only to have someone skip the queue? What if it were you?"

"If my teammate was flat out faster than me, I would retire immediately."

Euphemia laughed, before shaking her head and tapping her pen off the desk, just having thought of something.

"But…there's something you brought up that could do well for you. Gino is insisting that he goes back to the 2018 car, and he gets priority on who the team supports, but, as you said mid-rant, the team can run two different specs of car. There are some people I can speak to to try and grease the wheels on that front."

Kallen's eyes widened, almost like a puppy, or an addict with a fix being waved in front of their face, and gasped "Ah! Oh thank you!"

"But it's conditional."

Kallen immediately moved into a moping frown, as Euphemia raised her forefinger and began.

"One. They will take your car to Britain, and subsequent Grands Prix, however since Gino has made the call to focus on the 2018 car until the updates are ready. Any spares and replacement parts will be for the 2018 spec until the new car is ready. That means you can get your car, but if a piece of bodywork breaks, like a front wing, a barge board or whatever, it can't be replaced. You'll either have to make do with the broken car, or take the 2018 spec."

Kallen didn't like it, but given how bad it could have been she would eat up, smile and say 'Thank you ma'am' by comparison with being caught with the 2018 car right off the bat. She'd have to be careful and avoid breaking the car, as she had been somewhat prone to in early 2018, however she was in a far better mental space, even if she had just been yelling at the technical team. Continuing, Euphemia raised another finger and lectured "Two, you need to take the rest of the day off. You're pent up to tight, and your write up for the week depends on you vacating the premises and not doing anything other than cuddling up on your couch with hot chocolate and a film. You're at an eleven emotionally, you need to be at maybe a three."

Kallen shrugged, and with an unusual nonchalance replied "If it helps me get the car I need to win, I'll do anything. That Is all that matters. I can't win with the 2018 car."

Euphemia smiled, and nodded "I know. You've made a lot of progress in that regard compared to when you were a Rebellion, getting into funks that affected your form and so on. Right now, I don't know what could shake you, you've such a drive and a passion."

Kallen smiled and nodded, confident Euphemia would write that report. However, as she moved to leave, Euphemia snapped her fingers in realisation and yelped "Oh and one more thing."

Kallen, curious, turned back and simply raised her eyebrow, asking silently 'Oh?"

"We need to meet up sometime, I seriously need you to verify my sisters' stories. Some of them were spicy!"

* * *

On any other day, Abbey would be flat out. In the rain, it would be flat out only if you ignored the hips of the car sashaying about as it crested over the apex and round to the exit kerb, the drop in the pit of your stomach as the car lost lateral traction and slid over to the far side like a crab, the rush of blood to the chest and the rushed intake of breath which made every nerve beg to make sudden adjustments to course, or to lift off the throttle to stop aggravating the moody, snarly beast.

However, Kallen was either brave or irrepressibly stupid, and kept the pedal welded to the floor, even as the texture of the road through the vibrations in her seat, through the shaking and torque being put through her steering wheel, through the resistance rising and falling in her application of the throttle as it pushed back into her ankle, insisted with the certainty of God that the grip was not there, had not been there, and was not going to be there.

And while there was significant crossover between brave and stupid, Kallen didn't feel she was either, as the two outer wheels satisfyingly came to lateral rest just as they brushed against the kerb on the outside. She simply knew the limits of the car to the ounce, millimetre, or whatever other unit of measurement was relevant. She had tested this corner in dry, wet, sleet, and, in three amusing instances, snow on a computer bigger than her flat, and knew the exact combination of inputs which could conquer Abbey in the wet, like a cheat code. To purposely let the car slide briefly outside of her control in such a way that it would return to her in a smooth and predictable way, to force it into brief moments where she could not influence the direction of the car, with the certainty that it would not crash, and she would regain control in due course. In deliberately placing it in a situation where she was no longer in immediate control with an understanding of when and how her influence over speed and direction would return, she had ironically never lost control; she had registered an input, knew what it would cause, and was able to go round the corner. She knew what would happen and trusted that it would be so.

With the car aligned parallel with the track direction and momentum on her side with having taken Abbey flat, she could follow the kerb on what had turned from the outside of Abbey to the inside of the longer, but less severe, Farm curve. Allow the car to travel on a curved line slightly less harsh than the curve itself, as there was a brief straightaway out of Farm before the next right hand hairpin. Only returning to the kerb on the left hand side just before the braking zone having taken the line of least resistance, the line which required the lowest maximum steering angle, the lowest momentum lost through conversion into direction change, the least severe movement of the front wheels away from dead straight ahead, she dabbed the brakes, allowing the downforce of the car to shed away, like an athlete taking off a weighted vest after a run. It became skittish, far less planted, as the tyres had the force of the air riding over the body and pressing them into the ground taken away, and the solidity, the certainty from the rubber, now feeling less like cement, a substance in which you could put your full faith into, lean into with ones entire body mass without a moments worry or doubt that it could be taken, to oil. The resistance of the wheel stripped away in parallel with the downforce, with the grip in the steering now communicating a light, airy feel as opposed to one which was tough enough to budge to pull Kallen's biceps into force, having to try and force it into place.

However, while the bicycle had been taken down a few gears in resistance to rotation, this was not necessarily a bad thing. While it did indicate that the car would be more sensitive, behaving more like ice than Velcro, Velcro was not always what was called for.

For corners like Village, Kallen would be more than happy to have ice for tyres as opposed to grippy Velcro.

Village, which had proven so troublesome in Qualifying for 2017, which had been the site where Bradley had punted her in the race of 2017, could now be tackled with confidence. She braked late, and turned toward the apex far too fast. With a conventional style, she would have speared straight off the far side. She was far too fast to take this corner even if it were dry, however because it was wet, she had an ace up her sleeve.

As well as holding the brakes to deliver a far more sudden aggravation to the wheels, causing the rear to swing round and rotate the car, she engaged the paddle operated clutch, partially cutting drive to the wheels, before mashing the throttle, watching the revs soar, and dropping both the clutch and brake. Satisfyingly, the car, at some twenty five kilometres per hour faster than everyone else, rotated, before she quickly hopped off and on and off and on and off and on the throttle again to return the rear wheels to a more controlled state without losing the revs, and away.

Plunging headlong into a heart of darkness, with the black, black clouds directly in front of her, towering over the Buckinghamshire countryside, she charged like a knight down, feeling the car fall away from her as she accelerated, as if she were falling off the edge of a cliff.

If she were, the ground, in this context, would here be represented by Brooklands, and it was equally imposing; a long, swooping curve, which rewarded smoothness and gentle driving. Gino loved it. Tohdoh loved it. Kallen, finding more favour in short radius corners which rewarded aggressiveness, taking the track by the scruff of its neck in a mercurial flurry of energy and bombast, did not love it.

However, love it or otherwise, it was a part of the lap, and she had to come to some kind of equitable settlement with it, shake hands and begrudgingly move past, even if it were with a sour taste in her mouth. And so, she held her breath and dived into the pool, the water chilled her to the bone. Breathless, and feeling the cold water shock, she held, held, built up the energy in the spring more and more, pulled it further and further back, further through Luffield, before unleashing the spring, all the fires of hell, the collective might and fury that had ever been charged though her spine and then some into two forty centimetre wide ribbons of treaded rubber. It was the conductor, the medium through which she shouted, and screamed as she charged through Woodcote, barely visible through the rain. The wheels did not bite fully through the first part of third, did not bite fully through the first part of fourth, and only just bit from the entire length of time from when the car entered a gear until it left it when it reached sixth.

Kallen screamed as the car fired into the mist, into the ink, where only instinct and knowledge could chart her course around this miserable, soaked track on the godforsaken spit of land that was England. The lap had been immeasurably draining, and would have been entirely beyond 2017 Kallen, and likely 2018 Kallen. But this was 2019 Kallen, having made a successful appeal for her 2019 car, and was looking to set the 2019 Pole for the 2019 British Grand Prix.

And so, as she rushed towards the Maggots-Becketts-Chapel complex, she felt charged with confidence, felt filled with energy, standing ready to be loosed with all the power that being changed could give.

Jerk the wheel right unapologetically, like a box to the face. Go down two gears as a means of breaking without actually lifting off the throttle. Say thank you to the gearbox mechanics. Finally brake, though without lifting off the throttle, only just skate over the kerb on the exit of Chapel, with the two outside wheels on the grass and the inside two just barely within the track limits. She felt the underplate scrape off the peak of the kerb, before flying. If the Wellington straight felt like falling from a cliff, the Hangar straight felt like climbing out of hell, like soaring up almost vertically, converting speed into altitude, like redemption. Where her breath previously felt compressed, bottled up in her lungs with the pressure of a nuclear reactor, now she breathed lightly as she left the valley of darkness, and saw a hint of light. Only a hint, but she was nearly home.

As she peaked Everest, she then slowed her descent into Stowe, once again abusing the gearbox to rotate the car, feeling it wanting to tug away and giving it a leash, but a short one, once again letting the rear do the heavy lifting and carrying speed through the corner in a style that was not only untraditional, but anti-traditional, an active afront to Fangio and Stewart, however, in her busy manhandling of all elements of the car, she skated round with the speed and precision of Yuzuru Hanyu, though it perhaps lacked the grace.

However, Kallen would sacrifice all grace, all neat, smooth satisfaction she could, for tenths, for hundredths. She would be ugly, she would present a sour face, she would be hated, reject all norms and all humanity, if… as she broke into Vale, and planted the throttle in some quiet, bright garden, very far away, if, she could just get this lap right, as she rode up, getting as bloody close to the wall on the inside as she bloody dared, and finished.

She was finished.

She let off the throttle, and tried to cool her muscles down. She had woken up more than once after a day in the Brecon Beacons barely able to move without shooting pain, and had to bring her muscles down from heavan slowly, to avoid falling too fast and injuring them once she hit the ground. Her breath was fluttery, and, with her limbs asleep, she was shivering with the post-lap anxiety.

"How's that?" Kallen spluttered, as she moved through the first turn.

"Kallen… aha… that's Pole mate! Get in there, Pole position! You've taken it by seven tenths over Naoto, almost a whole second! Well done, well done! Great job, ahhaaha!"

She pumped her fist, letting the pace slowly wind down as she rolled the car up through the cool down lap, around and back to the pit straight, where she parked up between the Rebellions of her brother Naoto and Tohdoh.

She silently observed that the top five cars, Kallen, the two Rebellions and the two Schwarzenritters, were all on 2019 chassis. The fastest 2018 car, driven by Gino, was a second slower than the slowest 2019 car of Rolo Lamperouge. While that was significant, it would easily be made up for with the 2019 cars needing at least two times as many pit stops, to the point where the 2019 cars would be hard pressed to keep their qualifying position.

But Kallen didn't care. Kallen had been the fastest woman on track, and was as happy as a clam as she leapt off the nose of the car and into the arms of her team. They shook one another, before she turned back to the second and third placed starters, moving over to shake their hands. However, she was soon given a quick reality check.

Tohdoh and Naoto, who were quietly huddled together, then noticed Kallen had turned her attention to them and immediately moved from faces and positions of delight to ones of suspicion as soon as their eyes turned from each other to her. Kallen's own face fell, as Naoto sneered "Back to your team then. Go on, I'm sure you've got plenty to celebrate on your own."

Kallen sighed as her brother flicked his two fingers at her and swore in Japanese, before she shook her head and turned away, her jubilance now turned sour. Of course, she hissed internally. She wasn't entitled to Naoto's pride. She hadn't earned that back. But she missed it. She missed Naoto ruffling her short spiky hair when she would win a karting race, get a podium in Formula Ford, or take Pole in F3. She was so small compared to him, Kallen having only had a growth spurt in the last four years while Naoto had always been near the top of his age group in altitude, so he would bundle her up and, while also hugging her, tickle her mercilessly.

Kallen had moved past those times, of course, and was achieving more than she had ever dreamed was possible, by it was also distinctly unique in that she was now doing it alone. Her celebration was of course shared with an entire factory, but there was no one who would celebrate them with her on a more personal level, especially now as she reached as high as she ever had. This was not even to mention how isolated she felt on days when all wasn't going well. She just missed having Naoto, with an uncomplicated relationship of ribbing, good fun, and mutual support.

But adulthood was inherently more complex than childhood. While Kallen knew that there were people who would give anything to go back to the naive, unambiguous simplicity of their childhoods, she was not among them. She enjoyed the freedom adulthood had given her, and would be incapable of going back, not least after what she had done. She didn't deserve to go back, which did dovetail with her not having much interest in doing so.

However, there were elements of childhood she missed, like Naoto's affection, or the cheeky skiving off to the local track, free of stakes or consequences. She did not want to give up what she had gained to return to such a world, but this went no way towards mitigating her soreness for their absence. She would just have to live with them. She would have to accept that Naoto would likely not ever feel the same about her, and that there was little she could do about it.

Living without the affection of her sibling was not an existence Kallen was entirely comfortable with, but she was not a child. Naoto was not some solipsistic figment her imagination had conjured up for her own comfort, like an imaginary friend; he had his own beliefs, his own needs, and his own boundaries.

She was not entitled to him. She was not entitled to his positivity, or affection. He owed her nothing. The only error was ever assuming he had ever given the love he had out of some social obligation, as opposed to a genuine love. The love was gone, and there was in tandem no affection to be found moving from the elder sibling to the younger.

Just as there was with Lelouch, there are some things that time could not mend. Some hurts that go too deep. Naoto might at some point come around, but whether he did it or not was his prerogative. She missed him dearly, but did not engage in reactionary ideas of recapturing or preserving childhood. There was nothing she could do, or that she ought to do. Whether he made the decision to reconcile was his decision. Until such a time, she would learn to live without him.

Tomorrows race awaited, and required her full attention.

* * *

 **Next chapter I put a lot of work into, and I'm really, really pleased with it. Looking forward to the reception to it, but that's for next week.**

 **This week, we have some drama, with Naoto still angry at Kallen, with Kallen herself on thin ice, and with a need to push like all hell to make up for the amount of pit stops she's going to have to make.**

 **See you then. In the meantime, please review if you'd be so lovely! It is super elevating, and I really love to read all the commentary. There's always room to improve, and I very much plan to, and need to, improve.**

 **~G1ll3s**


	52. OK52 - Bat Out Of Hell

**OK Number 52 - Bat Out Of Hell**

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"Now, as we begin the count up to five red lights it's Kōzuki, from the older Kōzuki, from Tohdoh from Kururugi from Lamperouge from Weinberg. Four red lights, to the British Grand Prix, five lights… and they are out and the race is green, and it's a great start from Kōzuki- erm, Kallen, not Naoto, who wheelspins a bit, but not as badly as Tohdoh, who normally loves this track but he is just swallowed up immediately, as Gino has a good getaway, Naoto can only thank his lucky stars as they all ride into turn one that his teammate also had a bad start, or else Suzaku would have gotten the pair of them!"

Diethard took a breath, allowing Jeremiah to take over excitedly, as he contemplated the potential divergences in strategies arising from the legal quirk that had arisen.

"I mean, what do you do if you're in the 2019 spec cars? You have such an immense pace advantage over the 2018 cars, even with the tyre wear. Do you go easy and nurse the tyres, running just ahead of the 2018 cars and hope you can go tit for tat with the stops, or… or do you just shrug and go hell for leather?"

Diethard smirked, before stating the obvious, replying "Well we know what Kallen's doing, she's already built up a few seconds advantage over Naoto. We can see, she is not waiting around, she is just pinning it, just yelling 'Go go go go go!', but just remember, whenever she builds up a gap, she'll have to stop again, and again, losing a lot of time while everyone else can stop a few less times. Who will win, tortoise or hare? I can't wait to find out, but it's Kallen, from Naoto from Xingke, from Suzaku from Gino from Rolo. Championship leader Li Xingke is down in ninth, this was his worst qualifying all year. Was it the rain or the new tyres? We'll find out, as Kallen comes around to complete the first lap and we go onboard."

The camera switched to an onboard shot of Kallen busy hustling the car along, and Diethard was surprised. Her movements were not flighty, or light; they were firm, definite, with made with force into the wheel with an affirmative intent. It was definitely still snappy, the wheel never still or static, barely going a moment without microadjustments, but they seemed far more… solid. They were done with purpose, the result of a positive decision as opposed to animal instinct, or a trained instinct. It was conscious, and more importantly, it was fast, visibly fast.

"Jeremiah, look, she's now just over two seconds ahead of Naoto after just one lap. She's flying."

"She may be flying, but what's that doing to her tyres? We came into this weekend worried about tyres, and now we're going to see how far Kallen can get on them. It's a fifty two lap race; how far will she get on this level of aggression with this car?"

The answer was not very far. In fact, as Kallen was storming up on the end of lap nine, the Camelot crew were already assembling, ready to receive her. Skipping Vale, she straightlined the chicane and entered the shortest pitlane on the calendar, which cut out the last and first corners. If there was anywhere a strategy like this would work, it was at Silverstone.

"Of course… big, multi stop strategies have worked for Kallen before at this track, she's won here twice and on the both times she stopped three times over the race distance so… I mean, it could be on."

Absorbing Jeremiah's point, Diethard pointed out "Well, she'd need to maintain this pace. She's maybe twelve, thirteen seconds ahead of the big gaggle of cars, and it's eighteen to twenty seconds to stop. Her team seem to be preparing for a stop so… I don't know. She's going to have a lot of overtaking to do to get back into first after this stop, and then pull out a big enough gap to stop again. As well, if she's stopping this early… it's only lap ten… could she be trying the three stop?"

"She might even be trying the four stopper. If she's making her first stop on lap ten from softs to softs, lap twenty stop a second time for softs, lap thirty a third time, and then lap forty stop for mediums. It's… I mean it's ballsy and aggressive, two words that we do associate with the redhead, but wow, that would be something."

In either case, in to the box, soft tyres off, new softs on, and away. Jeremiah watched as she rejoined the track, narrating the scene.

"And we're watching the pit lane exit now and where it blends into Farm. Naoto has already gone past, there is Tohdoh. Gino passed Suzaku last lap, and they're coming through Farm line of stern. Then a gap, and then it's Rolo, Bradley, Darlton, and there's Kallen just as Nu comes through Abbey. Kallen's ahead, but Nu has far more speed, and on the run up to Village it is advantage Villetta, who has sped past and puts Kallen down into ninth as they slowww through the hairpin, Kallen has closed right up. She could just brake so much later, she was thirty meters back on the entry and now she's sitting on Nu's diffuser as she follows the South African onto the Wellington straight."

They both watched as Kallen pulled out of the slipstream and moved alongside, having picked up far better traction from the slow bottleneck and now having the overspeed to move past on the inside before the next braking zone, and Diethard quipped "I don't think… I don't think Nu will fight that one too hard."

"No, that's not really a fight she's in, she's just running her own race, and Kallen can just put on the anchors so much later. Her fresh tyres make her orders of magnitude faster, especially given that they're soft. It's worth noting that by the time she'd pitted, she had been pushing for nine laps and had built up something like a twelve second lead. Now she's on pristine tyres, fresh as a daisy, and soft, while most of the people around her are on mediums which are well into adolescence. She is going to be a hot knife through butter, there's no doubt, but will it be fast enough? Can she get back to first and build a gap again before these tyres lose their sheen?"

"The one thing she has going for is that she will always be on fresh tyres, or at least fresher tyres than the people around her." Diethard defended. "While other drivers will have to nurse tyres, she'll be pushing, and while other drivers will be lapping on stale rubber, she will be spending most of her race on tyres fit for a quali session. She will lose a lot of time in the pits, but she will have blistering pace compared to the folks around her. Her tyres will never be more than maybe ten laps old at any point, while other people will be taking tyres over twenty five laps through this race trying to make a two stop work."

Kallen, now in the clear air before the gaggling pack of Rolo, Darlton and Bradley, stuck together like superglue, closed up with thundering pace, gaining almost three seconds in a lap as they fought side by side, losing more and more time.

As Rolo and Darlton went side by side through Becketts and Chapel, holding up Bradley who was stuck behind them, Kallen was able to close right up, and get a monstrous exit. With Bradley having to hold off the throttle until Rolo and Darlton had reached a stage in the corner where they could accelerate in tandem, whereas Kallen could pin it as soon as she cleared the apex.

With a vastly superior exit speed, Kallen swept up Bradley like she was wielding a hoover, and was closing up at a rate of knots to the duelling Rolo and Darlton, too preoccupied with each other to notice the looming Camelot.

Rolo had just about squeezed ahead, finally returning them to single file which was normally required for the high speed Stowe corner.

Normally.

What they had not been expecting was a moody Kallen, on fresh soft tyres, armed with a 2019 spec chassis and driving it like she had stolen it. In a move which sent the commentary booth roaring, Kallen fully sent the car around the _outside_ of Stowe, barely lifting as the two cars head comparably stood still, trying to conserve their tyres while Kallen actively tried to burn them. Sitting on the limit of traction, it almost made the brain hurt to watch the car so easily change direction with the perfect storm of driver, car and tyre.

"Ahaha!" Jeremiah screeched. "Absolutely amazing scenes! Sweeping past them, going the long way around, going the dirtier way around, it's incredible. Kallen just had no fear, sent it without hesitation. Just goes to show the difference in the grip in the tyres, the difference in the level of grip they were willing to extract from the tyres, and just the commitment. Incredible."

By this stage, it was approaching lap sixteen or seventeen, and the 2019 runners were now approaching the end of their tyres, painstakingly preserved though they may have been. This now swung the axis from the 2019 runners who were being conservative to the 2018 cars, though Kallen was still an unknown quantity, who took the lead as the frontrunners of Naoto, Tohdoh, and Suzaku pitted for the first time. However, Kallen would have to pit on lap twenty, which would put her not only well into the clutches of that male Japanese trio, but also the people who had not stopped yet, and would not be stopping until perhaps lap twenty five or thirty; the 2018 cars, who were much slower, but were not losing twenty seconds every ten or fifteen laps. As the laps counted by, the two men in the booth grew increasingly excited at the race ahead. Kallen was fastest, but would lose the most time. The Schwarzenritters and the Rebellions would be somewhere in between, while the others such as Gino would attempt to outlast the other cars, playing the tortoise to Kallen's hare.

"So, recap. It's nineteen laps past just now as Kallen just roars up the main straight, fully pinned, fully committed. Look at her, look at her, the back almost steps out-"

"Yeah, she is pushing like the clappers through Abbey, full throttle corner, full opposite lock to keep the car in check. Her tyres might be approaching their use by date, but Kallen is determined to wring every bit of grip she can out of their necks. She is visibly giving it everything, but the rubber must surely be getting hot. She only made ten laps on the first set of softs, so I would imagine she'll be stopping at the end of this lap. She'll be pitting from the lead, but where will she come out? She was a few seconds behind Suzaku, Tohdoh and Naoto before they pitted, and where will she come out once she's pitted? Will their fresh tyres have helped them extend the gap, or will Kallen's banzai driving have actually helped close it? She's, she's coming in, she's pitting! Now, where is Naoto?"

They watched the pit straight out of Club corner on tenterhooks, as Kallen broke into the pit box and allowed the crew to slip off the four well done steaks from her axles and slam on bloody rare cuts, barely a few moments off the cow before Kallen slammed the car out of the garage. However, as she rushed the car towards the end of the pit lane, the three other Japanese leaders loomed large.

"There they are, there they are!"

However, Kallen could skip the first corner, and as they were moving though Abbey, Kallen emerged on the right hand side of the Farm curve. It was amazing; she had spent twenty seconds longer in the pits than the Tohdoh-Naoto-Suzaku bloc, and yet she had come out just a few seconds ahead. On track, she had put in times almost a second a lap faster than those three, again, by virtue of her fresher and softer tyres. Diethard was dumbfounded.

"I think… I think she might win this…"

However, Jeremiah was sceptical. "She has just put on a third set of softs, that will only take her to lap thirty. Either she puts on hards on lap thirty, or she's doing a four stop, and it would take something special to pull that off, especially versus the competition. The other 2019 spec chassis all went from mediums to hards, and I assume they'll be taking another set of hards to the end, and the 2018 runners are a long way up the road. I can't see her winning unless she keeps up this level of intensity from lights to flag, which… well that would be a feat of stamina and concentration. She can't afford a single mistake."

However, as Kallen thundered down the track, it didn't seem as if any slip was soon in coming, as she continued the onslaught forwards, leaning on the tyres she knew would be fresher and grippier than those around her. With softer tyres than the Japanese men behind her, Kallen was now on the hunt for the cars ahead, stalking them like a cheetah might chase down its victims. Gino. Bradley. Darlton. Rolo. Nu.

"Kallen, now crosses the line, her first flying lap since she made… what was that, her second pit stop for softs, sets a one twenty six three, smashes the lap record, which is just going to tumble down as her fuel load slowly depletes and she keeps changing to fresh tyres. She is fully switched on, and wants to catch the 2018 cars by any means necessary."

A pause, and then "Well, Jeremiah I do think it's happening as she's reeling them in by a few seconds. The tyre's these 2018 cars are running, though Rolo is in a 2019 chassis, have been on them since the start of the race, they're trying to make the one stop work and the tyres are now looking decidedly second hand. Kallen's on fresher rubber, she's on softer rubber, and she's in a faster car, a much faster car, and I think it's just a matter of time as they fall into Brooklands, watch that brake marker."

Indeed, Kallen was now so close, within the same camera shot even, that Diethard could watch and compare how late the leading cars broke to how late Kallen broke. She just had such faith in that car, it was her rock, her parachute, which bled off the speed before she hit the ground and turned in, having made up almost half a dozen car lengths in one braking zone.

"Absolutely incredible, she's almost on them as they all ride through Luffield, now a gang of five has become a gang of six, but I don't know how long it's going to stay a gang of six as Kallen gets far better traction out the loooong Luffield, you need to hold the car, hold the car until it's ready, and unleash! It's a good exit for Kōzuki, it's a great exit for Kōzuki as she… she pulls alongside Nu in the outside of Woodcote, it's side by side into Copse, they're not going to take Copse side by side are they? Not at full throttle, surely?"

They were, and Diethard almost had to close his eyes, unable to watch, as Kallen carried the speed and the grip around the outside of the corner, which was just barely flat out even on the conventional line if God decided he was going to be nice to you today.

And Diethard didn't hear Kallen lift.

Jeremiah meanwhile was not fretful, he was ecstatic, jumping up and down as Kallen kept the throttle pinned and bullied her way into the space of track on the exit of the corner, such was her overspeed on "She just drove around the outside like she was in the overtaking lane on the motorway, it was so casual, that confidence she has in the chassis and the tyres. She just breezed around the outside like Nu was standing still! Incredible! She doesn't fear anyone, or anything!"

That set the tone, as Kallen had a chassis which was roughly a second a lap faster, tyres an entire compound softer, and twenty three laps younger. She hounded them through Maggots, set up a wider line through Becketts so that she could cut in and move around the outside of Chapel, blocking off the best run, and giving her the best start of the two immediately in front of her, and sure enough, she had the grip to finish the move before they even reached Stowe, which ultimately amounted to the final nail in the coffin. Bradley came the next lap, into Village, with Gino intentionally moving aside so as not to obstruct her. He may be the first driver, but they were on different strategies, and under no circumstances could either be allowed to hold the other up.

Now, Kallen had the lead again. Diethard noted that all the one stopping 2018 cars she had just breezed past would make that one stop on lap twenty six, which was only a few laps after Kallen passed them. Kallen now had an entire pit stops advantage over them, and to win out over them at the end of the race, would only need to get twenty seconds in twenty six laps, which given the car was quite a bit less of a challenge than it sounded, so long as Kallen sustained the otherworldly pace.

And so, the focus shifted back to the other 2019 cars. Rolo was effectively out of contention for the win, and so it was a question of how big a gap could Kallen pull out over the Japanese trio. Like the drivers of the 2018 chassis had done to accomplish the one stop, their conservative strategy necessitated one more pit stop to complete the two stop. Kallen would also have to pit on lap thirty, which was deficit neutral, however now it looked inevitable she would end the race on mediums following a fourth stop, and lose twenty seconds. However, she only had a few seconds in hand as she went to pit for the third time.

Kallen silently came to a realisation; she would have to overtake Suzaku, Tohdoh, and Naoto to win after her last pit stop. She wouldn't even be able to abuse her far faster chassis and aerodynamics, which the three drivers ahead shared with her; the only advantage she would have, again, would be fresher tyres.

This was going to be lairy.

Kallen took a deep breath, before unleashing the spring again out of Luffield. She had not backed off of full tilt since the five red lights had faded, and she didn't intend on starting now. She would not build up a big enough gap in this penultimate ten lap dash; she could just try and reduce the work she would have to do in the last stint as much as she could.

And so, she just held her breath, and pushed, and like it had done at Monaco, the circuit seemed to fall into a ribbon, an open air tunnel through which she was a bullet train glued to the road no matter how hard she tried to unstick it, no matter how much lateral force she tried to force through the canvas. The car was strawweight, with most of the fuel having burned off, and so it was stickier, it changed direction like a moth, and Kallen was in her element. She could have driven like this for weeks if tyres and fitness permitted, but the tyres were to never be allowed to overheat if this strategy were to work, and Kallen was actually getting tired, such was the intensity with which she had been charging, like a dog at the races, like a bull at a matador, she saw the red of her pit light, saw the white of the medium tyres which would take her to the finish, and saw, on her steering wheel, the magic number.

Forty. Twelve laps to blitzkrieg this circuit, overtake three cars, and win the race.

Piece of cake.

While this creed was silently sneered in irony at how casually she contemplated such a feat, there was a genuine element. She believed in herself, which was all she needed.

Well, almost. While she was confident self-belief would seal the day, she always felt more comfortable with a bit of insurance. During her third stint, the three amigos of Suzaku, Tohdoh and Naoto had stopped for the last time, five laps before Kallen had. With how fast the tyres were wearing on the 2019 chassis, five laps could make the difference.

Holding nothing back, Kallen felt a charge, a surge of energy as she contemplated the excitement ahead, just as she caught view of the rear spoiler of the Rebellion of Tohdoh, streaking out of view.

She licked her lips, set her internal compass, and leant her head down, looking up through her brow as her head was buffeted. She had the pace to win, and with perhaps six laps to go the battle was joined.

Kallen cackled madly as she first felt her helmet cloud up with the heat and oil from Tohdoh's car. She was close, she was so close, so close she could see Tohdoh's suspension rise and fall, extend and compress as the tyres loaded up and were relieved as the mass shifted from the front under braking, to the side under turning, to the back under acceleration, and she could see the tyres themselves, in incredible detail.

And they were graining, heavily.

With a sharklike grin, Kallen finally struck. With far fresher tyres, and with a far greater willingness to lean into and take chunks out of them, she placed her car on the inside on the entry to Maggots, forcing Tohdoh to lift off and surrender the position. Kallen couldn't even take a moment of satisfaction, as she was a very hungry caterpillar, and, after eating Tohdoh, she was still hungry.

With three laps to go, she sized up Suzaku, whose squat Schwarzenritter shared Tohdoh's tyre wear. She was still fighting, still looking for any moment of weakness, and she seized it coming up into Stowe, hollering her soul into the kerb as she committed every inch of vocal chord she could muster into clearing around the outside, braking as late as she dared, even unsure herself whether she would make it, but she did, it was through, but it was not enough.

The last lap was about to start, and the very hungry caterpillar wanted another meal.

Ride the kerb like a skateboard through Abbey. Watch Naoto be defensive through Farm, and again into Village, be wise to it and try to make the outside line work as he shallowed the angle for himself in an attempt to block her off. However, he just about moved his car from apex to the far side of the track in the right way to block her off, neutralising her exit onto Wellington. Only a few corners to go until the chequered, and Kallen gritted her already gritted teeth. Out of Luffield, watch Naoto's blistered, pathetic rubber, perhaps only a meter away from her face, shred itself to pieces trying to find some desperate purchase. Fake to the inside, then move to the right, before Kallen took a deep breath and kept the throttle pinned around the outside of Copse.

Naoto likely hadn't expected Kallen to have enough tyre life to do it, and likely had little tyre life himself to defend, and so he was helpless as Kallen made the pass, made the final pass, was helpless as Kallen streaked ahead, jubilant, ecstatic, euphoric, on the verge of exploding, around the last corner to win the British Grand Prix!

Kallen's first words were not safe for work. Then came a pause, and then her second words were shouted through the radio, similarly not safe for work.

A series of celebratory expletives followed from her race engineer. The reply from Kallen was not safe for work. The race engineer laughed, before Kallen continued to roar swears, this time in Japanese, as she waved her arms up, banged her head and continued to hoot and roar. It felt orgasmic, and more important than that, earned. She couldn't take it anymore, and, too excited to drive all the way back around, parked the car on the left hand side of Abbey and jumped off the nose, before running up to the crowd stands and going over to embrace the crowd with the Japanese flags. She fist pumped, she jumped, she did anything to empty this adrenalin from her body.

Kallen had been asked many times over the last six months what it was she wanted, why she raced. Winning was nice, but it was somehow more straightforward than that; pushing, the pleasure of driving on the limit, driving as fast as she possibly could for an entire race. No conserving fuel, no conserving tyres, just a two hour sprint race, with short, lightning stints of her just attacking the track as fast as was mechanically possible.

A race like that. To more races like that, amen. Bloody amen.

* * *

"The scenes were quite incredible; an all Japanese podium, the second one of the year after Canada, with more Hinomaru than Union Jacks in the capacity crowd, with the noise of air horns louder than the cars as the throngs of fans cheered. A victory then, not only for Kallen, but for the endeavour of racing as being that essence Gilles Villeneuve described; charging, all the time. It was also a victory for Camelot at home, which caused the factory to celebrate until the wee hours of Monday morning. Kallen was delighted, being seen to partake in the celebrations, and saying this to our interviewer after the race in Japanese, subtitled for your benefit."

"I feel… Peace. Like… the whole weight of everything has just gone, boof. I don't think I left anything out on track, you can go back on check if you want to, I'm certainly to tired to. But, yeah… just the sense of… victory. That was my best race, my most complete race that I've done so far. If I were to be forced into retirement tomorrow, I'd look at today and just say 'Yea, it was worth it, all of it, to be able to do that, even just the once.' To have a race like that… races like that are why I do this. It's such a feeling of… just calm, washing over you."

"This joy was shared with her brother, who here answered a question about whether he ever expected to be racing again after Japan, let alone to be doing so well."

"Did I expect… no I didn't. I tend to take doctors at their word, and when they said I'd never drive again… I did believe them. But I would have use of my legs, and so I just tried to build them up, slowly, by the end of 2017 I was in a good place with the strength, and I spent most of 2018 nailing down the precision. I still do need a crutch from time to time but that's more for the knee than the ankle. But… I didn't ever believe it could happen until… maybe halfway through last year, and even then it was always… nah, that couldn't happen. I'm still not quite over the fact that I'm back, not just back but doing well, from 'You'll never drive again' to 'You're driving faster than a two time world champion.' I'm still in shock."

"In terms of points, Xingke drove from ninth to sixth getting him eight points, moving his tally to one hundred and fifty one. In second in the standings remains Gino Weinberg, finishing in fourth, the highest of any of the 2018 chassis. He sits on one hundred and twenty nine points. In fourth and fifth are the siblings of Kallen and Naoto Kōzuki, just four points apart with ninety five and ninety one points respectively, having finished the race first and second in that order. Just behind is Rolo Lamperouge with seventy four points, fifteen ahead of the reigning champion Suzaku, who in spite of getting his first podium of the season sits on only fifty nine points and a lot of questions. The next race was in Mogyoród, held since before the end of the Cold War; Hungary, with Xingke fading, the Schwarzenritters seeming to rise, and, with brand new tyres, the championship being blown wide open."

"And so it was, though few expected the race that emerged. Kallen looked a shoo in to win from Pole, however there was a hitch. With rain on Friday, and the track so waterlogged on Saturday that Qualifying had to be moved to the Sunday morning, no one had any idea of how much fuel would be needed to make the end of the race. With ten laps to go, Kallen received urgent instructions to conserve fuel at any cost, even position, as they had vastly underestimated consumption. The second placed Tohdoh overtook, before running out of fuel himself and not finishing, while Kallen at least salvaged fifth with heavy fuel saving measures. Kallen's team mate, Gino, looked set to win after the leaders all started to fade, however he then ran out of fuel as well. But the winner, moving from fourth to first on track, and on the top step of the podium for the first time in two years, was Naoto Kōzuki, and to say that he was happy would be an understatement. However, his joy was short lived."

* * *

 **Dun dun duuuuun! What transpires in Hungary? Find out next week, and, in these trying times, a review, much like an egg, is always appreciated.**

 **~G1ll3s**


	53. OK53 - The Oil

**OK Number 53 - The Oil**

* * *

"Ee! Ahaa, well done guys, well done, winners! Winners, aha, yes!"

Naoto surfed atop a crowd, giddy and likely already smashed as the Rebellion team celebrated its success like mad. It seemed putting all their eggs in the Naoto basket was going to pay off, and their recovery to the lead of the WDC, which still had eluded them since 2014, was firmly back on.

It also meant a lot for Naoto, Tohdoh acknowledged. He had the skill to lead the team, he just needed the confidence, and for all Tohdoh's best efforts, few things compared to a win to seal the deal. Especially given the herculean recovery he had had to go through, to be winning again was simply immense.

But the crowd was thinning now, with most of the fans and journalists returning home as the engineers cleared up the cars, the equipment, and, if one was being honest, the mess from the party. Tohdoh, deep in thought, moved to a quiet corner to think over how things had gone wrong.

As he pulled out a cigarette, Tohdoh sighed, before moving a lighter up to his mouth to meet the Marlboro tab, now wedged in place in his mouth. He lit the end, before taking a huge suck through the filter, filling up his lungs to capacity before slowly releasing it. It helped cool him down, slow his thinking, order it somewhat, as he tried to piece together where it had gone wrong.

He wasn't cross because he hadn't won. Tohdoh had frequently been the beneficiary of team orders, and he knew that had he not run out of fuel, he would have been told to surrender the position to Naoto, and he would have been happy to. After having benefited from it so many times, it would have been incredibly disrespectful to not return the favour, and he would have been honoured to do it. However, he had run out of petrol. Instead of finishing first and second, with Tohdoh serving as a points buffer between Naoto in first and the chasing pack, in having to retire, people chasing the leading Rebellions had all been bumped up one place, and Naoto's points gain over them would have been blunted.

Given that Naoto had to go some ways to catch Xingke and Gino, Naoto needed to pick up as many points over them as he could, and that he had let Naoto down enraged Tohdoh. As he pulled the cigarette out from between his lips, holding it at a perched angle with his elbow buried into his torso as his lungs reached empty and he stood, deep in thought.

However, before he could take another drag, he heard someone in the other area ask where Tohdoh was, before mumbled speech, before a pause, before Tohdoh was greeted by Kaname Ohgi, manned with a clipboard and quite a bit of enthusiasm.

"Having fun out there?" Tohdoh asked, quietly eager to ensure his frustration was not spoiling the joy Naoto was hopefully experiencing. It was still a great day for the team, and they didn't deserve Tohdoh spoiling it for until at least seven hours after the victory high had fizzled out. Nodding, Ohgi smiled.

"It's our first one since Abu Dhabi last year, and it's the first in three years for Naoto, who's just after having spent two years building his legs back up, it's so heartwarming. Other teams are coming in and congratulating him. He's had a long road, he deserves this."

Tohdoh nodded. "Yes, he does."

He then moved his cigarette back up to his face to take another puff, however he didn't get the opportunity to complete the action, as another engineer rushed around the corner, from the main area away from the tyres Tohdoh and Ohgi were talking behind, trying to hurry over, practically sprinting with important technical information for Ohgi.

Then things started happening very quickly.

The engineer running in to deliver the news only realised too late the pair were closer to the obscuring tyre barrier than he expected, however he was moving too fast, and in too confined a space, to avoid ploughing into the back of Ohgi.

Tohdoh's eyes only widened once her realised too late what was happening, as Ohgi was knocked forward by the impact. Not having seen the engineer coming, he had had no way to brace, and so fell forward, right into the centre of Tohdoh's torso.

With the combined weight of Ohgi and the momentum transferred in the shunt, Tohdoh, without having had a chance to prepare, could only be the next domino in the set, being shunted backwards.

Catching his heel off the back of a resting tyre, Tohdoh felt his body fall backwards and down towards the ground. Desperate to try and avoid banging his back and head off the paved garage floor, he desperately reached forwards, looking for a groove in a nearby tyre, or the top of a work desk, to hold on to and break his fall. He seemed safe once his hand found purchase against a rolling cabinet, however it proved not to be the case, as it was not heavy enough to hold back his momentum, instead joining him in cratering towards the ground, tipping over at the wheels and falling on top of him.

As the surface of the steel cabinet left the horizontal plane and shifted more vertically, the oils and liquids and oxidisers spilled out off the surface of the lid and down towards Tohdoh, spilling all over him, his face, his clothes, and down the side of the floor, seeping out to the side.

However, Tohdoh had forgotten one thing; his cigarette.

As he tried to push the big wheeled drawer off his body, he raised his arm to his chest to try and lift it away from him. However, as he tried to push against the heavy steel cabinet, Tohdoh's vision burst, rapidly flooding from foggy and fuzzy from the mechanical fluids which had spilled off the desk and into his face to orange and blazing colour, stunningly bright, like staring into the sun and about as painful.

Tohdoh rolled to the side, coughing, before feeling the searing tickle, deep in his nerves, flow down his neck and chest. He wasn't in pain, which conversely scared him even more. He tried to flail from his prone position, however his body seemed to stop cooperating, as he slowly seemed to lose his vision, feeling a deep scare in his stomach, as he couldn't move, and he watched his entire view grow rapidly engulfed by flames, before the edges grew dark, and Tohdoh lost consciousness, his last distinct sensation being the growing struggle to breathe.

* * *

"It's such crap, how do you not put enough fuel in the car? How is that a mistake we make in 2019? I mean, come on…"

Kallen stood just at the fencing between the pit wall and the pit lane itself, where people would drive down for pit stops, facing out towards the track proper and towards her engineer, who was trying to explain how she had gone from claiming twenty five points to going to jail, not passing go, and not collecting two hundred dollars. He sighed, before trying to start again, as Kallen, still in her race outfit of layered Nomex, fiddled with her gloves absentmindedly.

"It's very marginal. We don't want to put in more than you need, because it's dead weight, you won't use it, and all it'll ever do is just slow you down. We had a wet… pretty much wet everything until the race began. We could only do our maths based on the numbers we had available, which was wet running, where you use a bit less fuel. We tried to compensate for that and leave a bit of margin, but I guess we didn't leave enough. I'm really sorry."

"Well sorry doesn't get me the twenty-five points but… ach, sure look it's done and over now."

Kallen sighed, before she heard Gino shout out from behind them. She turned, and looked on as he nodded at her.

"Me and a few of the lads are going down to Budapest for an hour to pick up some stuff from the meat market, do ye fancy anything?

"Look at you, trying to be cultured." Kallen smirked. "You're in a good mood for someone who didn't finish. Sure, if you can get some salami that'd be fantastic. Nothing hot, it's already boiling in this suit. Can't wait to have a shower."

"Also…" Gino smiled, before pausing and reaching down into his backpack, pulling out a glass bottle and throwing it across. She caught it, as he nodded. "Whiskey. They thought you could do with some cheering up."

"Cheers." Kallen smiled, holding onto the neck of the bottle and pointing its bottom end towards Gino as a nod of thanks.

"I think I might get one while-" Kallen began, however whatever she may have said next was drowned out by noise, so much noise, almost a bang, causing her to recoil and drop the whiskey. She quickly recovered, looking up with darting eyes, scanning for the source down the pitlane.

However, there was little need to be quite so vigilant, as the source made itself readily apparent; the Rebellion pit garage, just maybe twenty meters down the way to Kallens right, was spewing black smoke, belching it like it had the runs.

Kallen jumped to alertness, as she tried to see what was happening. Fire, certainly, as there was scarcely smoke without it, and a great deal of fire at that, given the volume, the density, the rate at which the smoke was being forced out, displaced by more smoke.

Gasping, Kallen leaned over the railings, trying to see what was happening, and what was being done. She watched the engineers from the garages either side of the smoking one were moving in with fire extinguishers to combat the fire, which Kallen realised was in the Rebellion garage. Her brother might have chosen his own path, but he could well be in danger, and no matter how far he went to reject her, there was only so far Kallen was willing to separate herself.

"Does anyone have fireproof-" she began, trying to call for some help, however three things quickly dawned on her. Most of the mechanics had changed out of their fireproof gear, hell, most of the people had. Second, the fire brigade called to supervise the race had left once it had ended.

Third, because she was so hung up on finding out why she had been so hung up on finding out why she had been underfuelled, she was one of the only people to have not yet changed out of their fireproof race overalls. The only thing missing was her balaclava, which was just on the desk behind her.

She was the only one who could do anything about the people stuck in the fiery garage. She was the only one with fire resistant clothes on, the only one who could help.

She swore, and not thinking a moment more, grabbed the balaclava, before vaulting the steel railing. Sliding it on over her head, Kallen took a deep breath, ignored the shouts to back away, and ran head first into the inky smoke, punctuated only with the dry blaze.

To her surprise, her surroundings were not totally imperceptible; the smoke was thick, and black, but it was more a filter than a blindfold. That having been said, her eyes immediately began to sting, and she became aware that she could not take a breath, and needed to hurry. She rushed through the garage, immediately coming across someone who had been knocked back in whatever had caused the bang. She immediately pulled him up and made her way out, following the flow of smoke from high to low pressure gas zones, from blackened smoke and carbon to the clear air.

Or, at least, the clearer air.

The man Kallen was escorting, who had not taken a breath in almost a minute, grew heavier and heavier, as his consciousness drained, to the point where Kallen had to take his arm up and over her shoulder, bearing his weight through her back and thighs. She moved to the open, clear space just beyond the assembly of the other teams, armed with their own fire extinguishers brought for the event, making their own attempts to tackle the fire in lieu of the presence of a fire department as of yet, and laid the middle aged Japanese technician down, back against the wall. He nodded appreciatively, before Kallen urgently inquired further.

"Is there anyone else in there?"

"A few others, I think, we were all closing up and then a big fire just-"

"Is my brother still in there?"

"I'm… I'm not sure, I think he was in the back last I saw."

Kallen nodded and left him to be taken care of by the doctors on the scene, before, in spite of another round of shouted instructions to get away from the fire, she plunging back into the vibrant dark.

Once she was engulfed, she at least had a bit of experience with which to better deal with the heat, the lack of oxygen, and the toxic gases. She entered this time armed with a cloth to cover her mouth and nose, filtering her breaths to some extent, and was able to more quickly move through the garage and cover more ground. However, just as she saw and tried to aid another struggling mechanic, she spotted Naoto, who was trying to resuscitate another engineer, unconscious on the ground.

Still holding on to the first one, Kallen made her way over to the just-about conscious Naoto, and simply yelled "What are you doing? Go, get out of here! You're not in fireproofs!"

"I need to get him out!" Naoto replied sharply. "I can't carry him, my legs, I need to get him awake!"

Swearing, Kallen moved over to the man, laid prone on the ground, wrapped her arms around his stomach and, though she struggled, carried him over her shoulder. Holding her breath moreso to ensure her body didn't flop like a vertically stood fish than for healthy inhalation, Kallen finally stood up into a fully vertical stance, before shouting with her last bit of air "Naoto, get that guy behind me, and follow me through!"

Kallen, as she navigated her way to the front of the garage, thanked her blessings that the first engineer had at least been mobile, and Naoto would only have to escort him as opposed to carry him with his leg, still not all the way back. The group of four reached the clear air, and Kallen almost collapsed under the dead weight of the unconscious man, who could well have done with a bit of trimming down, however this was hardly the time for such comments. She deposited him at the edge of the smoke, where he was scooped up by paramedics for first aid. Naoto and the first engineer followed moments after, with Naoto collapsing completely once he cleared the smoke, though fortunately the engineer was pulled out of the smoky area. Kallen rushed immediately towards Naoto, grabbing and righting him by his lapels, trying to see what condition her brother was in. However, as soon as Naoto was sat upright and cognisant of where he was and who he was facing, he waved his hand and began to splutter.

"Don't- don't worry about me, where's Tohdoh?" he shouted, eyes practically bulging, which almost made Kallen drop him. Naoto, not satisfied with Kallen's brief pause, turned his head to the growing crowd.

"Where's Tohdoh? Is Tohdoh out here? Anyone? Has someone seen Tohdoh?" he screamed, eyes ablaze in panic, before realising that he had not joined the growing crowd outside the garage. At this point, he shook his head, and, not being in fireproof overalls himself having changed out of them to celebrate, then continued "Someone! Please, please go and see! Doesn't anyone have fireproofs…"

Naoto suddenly appreciated the reality of the situation, and turned immediately back to Kallen, eyes pleading, as he asked, not reducing his volume by a decibel from shouting as loud as his lungs could accomplish after inhaling two minutes of smoke, "I'm fine, I'm alright, but you've got flameproof clothes. Please, can you please go in and look? I haven't seen him, and he was close to where the fire started, and I'm really worried. I'm sorry for doing this to you, but please, he could be dying, please!"

Kallen hesitated, uncertain and uncharacteristically indecisive in this moment of crisis, before Naoto raised his arms to Kallen's lapel, reversing the dynamic, and, short of breath, pleaded.

"Please! Please, please help my friend! I'm scared he's- please, help! Please help him!"

Kallen had only seen that face on Naoto once, some ten years previously, when their parents had told him that they would no longer be welcome in their home. Naoto had to break the news to Kallen, and visibly did not have the heart to at first. He looked so helpless, so unbearably unable to do anything about it, and Kallen, though not knowing what the problem was, could see it. She had tried to comfort him, pulling him in for a hug, at which point he did break down into convulsive, ugly tears, before telling her they would have to look for a new place to live.

This was a very serious face, one of desperation and of pleading. There was nothing Kallen could do ten years ago. There was something she could do this time.

Nodding, she grabbed her cloth and ignoring what was now several loud and targeted attempts to try and stop her from re-entering, she plunged into the dark for a third time.

It had at least dissipated somewhat with the efforts of the other teams to try and extinguish the fire, however it could hardly be described as the Sardinian coast in terms of air clarity. With Naoto's vague directions, she moved to the back, following the wall around to the left, before seeing a large pile of tyres. She followed the pile, before seeing a cabinet on its side, with a pair of legs poking out from underneath. Fearing the worst, Kallen tried to raise the cabinet from its position laid on its largest side by area and rotate it onto its side. She could barely do it, in large part thanks to her having built up her fitness. If she was only as fit as she had been as she had been last year, it would not have budged, however, with her thighs and biceps working in tandem, was able to torque the cabinet off of the body, which it emerged was Tohdoh, who had been trapped under its mass, which even Kallen had struggled to lift from above. Kallen tried to reach through the plastic and wrenches which had slid off the workbench, clearing them away to reach Tohdoh, who laid face down, and only identifiable by his distinctive jacket.

As she finally cleared the paraphernalia off of Tohdoh, she tried to turn him over, back onto his back however, as she tried to grab onto his shoulder, her hand slipped away, unable to find purchase or friction. She shook her head, confused, before doubling over to cough. The smoke was still toxic, and she could not afford to wait around, and so she bent back down, anchoring Tohdoh between her bent forearms.

Having now realised Tohdoh, for whatever reason, was both too hot and too slippery to carry, she was left with no other choice than to take off her stained, slippery gloves and try to drag him barehanded. Sure enough, while he previously he had begun to slip through her arms, slicked with some greasing liquid, this time she was in a good enough position to lever him into a seated position. However, without fireproof gloves, her hand suddenly stung viciously, a sharp pain that stabbed at the centre of her palm and wrist like a series of rusted daggers jotting in and out with the speed of engine cylinders. She felt her fingers spasm in pain, and she almost dropped Tohdoh had it not been for her other hand quickly grabbing into the wrist of the other arm, keeping the link intact. She felt the hand which was clutching into her wrist similarly get scorched like a forest fire of otherworldly pain, immediate and all consuming, however Kallen couldn't rest here, she needed to get out.

And get out with Tohdoh in tow.

Grabbing ahold of him sent her arms into a searing pain, almost jerking her focus out of the moment entirely in how sudden the tendrils of pain shot through her tendons.

But she did grab ahold, and kept him in her grip.

Her breaths grew heavier, and each one gave slightly less energy. Her concentration was only kept aloft by the dagger of pain rising though her arm, which continually forced her to clench her teeth and roar in miserable agony, and yet it kept her awake, kept her at least a little bit engaged in what was happening. The room grew darker, with Kallen's mind and mental capacity shrivelling to the maintenance of just one thought; must get out.

However, the path was not, in spite of how long it seemed, infinite, and Kallen's view finally cleared, before she moved to a few meters clear of the smoke and laid Tohdoh down. Naoto, finally seeing Tohdoh be brought out by Kallen, immediately ran over to help in any way that he could. As Kallen gathered her breath, she issued quick instructions.

"Help me get him onto his back, he's slippery. Three, two-"

The one was silent, but Kallen and Naoto both pulled him up and around, finally facing his chest towards the sky, before they both gasped and recoiled.

"His face-"

Tohdoh was caked in oils all over the front of his clothing, or at least, he had been; there was only trace amounts left, but it was surely as thick as if he had swum in it at one point, because most of it had burned away.

Burned onto him. Burned _into_ him.

Tohdoh's clothing was not fully burned though, though some of it was, with infrequent patches and holes burnt into the fabric, with black and white boils and charred skin filling the gap.

However, while it was almost a blessing that this much of him had covering, his face had had no such protection. The liquid, whatever it had been, had clearly fallen first onto his face, and the fire had responded in kind, charring his forehead and nose down to the layer of bone, with hard, white bumpiness disturbingly visible.

Kallen just stared down, staring blankly, with what was now a dissociative, unfocused gaze down, trying to make sense of Tohdoh's condition, before he was put onto a stretcher by medical staff. Even then, she stared into the slightly blackened space Tohdoh had just lay, alongside Naoto.

She suddenly felt her head and legs grow faint, and she could only muster the faint complaint of "Oh… bugger…", as her vision faded.

And then Kallen passed out.

* * *

 **~G1ll3s**


	54. OK54 - True Colours

**OK Number 54 - True Colours**

* * *

Kallen, fortunately, was ultimately stable once she was brought to hospital and examined; she had second and some third degree burns all over her hands and a ways up her wrist, as well as relatively benign lung damage due to smoke inhalation.

Of course, breathing was incredibly hoarse, with the air rushing up her throat as she breathed grinding against the corroded walls of her trachea, causing intense pain through her chest. It was hardly minor, just comparatively minor.

Comparatively, as at the very least she had been wearing body and face protection, with the arm burns coming from having to clasp with her gloveless hands at various bodies and hot surfaces. The pit crew inside at the time the garage lit up had mostly either changed out of their fireproofs or had never been in them, being IT assistants or the like. Of course, varied second and third degree body burns ran the whole gamut of the people involved, all Rebellion employees but one, a Densō aide who was ferrying something between the garages. However, all would be able to return to work within the month, which, given that Hungary marked the beginning of the six week summer break, the halfway point of the season which allowed everyone to take a break and digest what kind of drugs they had been on for the last four months.

However, one person who would not be doing that, who would not be returning in six weeks, or for the rest of the year, or ever, was Kyoshiro Tohdoh. When the blaze began, the firsthand account of Kaname Ohgi explained that he had fallen back onto a cabinet, with the oils and liquids stored on the top spilling down onto his chest and face before he became trapped. Ohgi, unable to lift it, went to get help, leaving Tohdoh trapped helplessly, the perfect fuel and chemical oxidiser combination right on top of his face.

He had sustained fourth degree burns, a degree higher than Kallen actually knew even existed, to much of the front of his face and neck, with third degree radially fading from the fourth around his forehead and chest, the latter of which compounded the chemical stew that he had breathed in and now sat drying in, moulding in, eating away at his lungs. In several areas, his skin had been eaten away to an extent that bone was clearly visible. He had not woken up since first falling unconscious when the fire had started on the Sunday evening.

Indeed, Kallen's injuries, though they would leave significant scarring and a propensity to sudden bleeding for the rest of her life, were not nearly as significant as that, and her drive to bounce back had not gone away. As soon as she was cleared to walk, she had to be handcuffed to her bed for several hours of the day to make sure she wasn't down in the physiotherapy ward at all hours of the day and further damaging her lungs.

However, she was either incessant or persuasive, and she suspected the former, and the doctors had permitted a limited amount of exercise per day. Kallen would be here for two weeks, and was absolutely terrified of the prospect of muscle atrophy, losing her all the strength that she had gained. It was while she was sprinting on the treadmill, hooked up to a breathing tube to ensure that there was no potentially harmful air as she put her wounded lungs under extreme stress, that he first made contact.

Unlike Kallen, her brother, who was staying at the same hospital, had been ordered to stay in bed, and so his first contact, a week after they had both arrived, had to come via a third party nurse, who had to run between wards for Kallen to hear Naoto's message.

He wanted to see her.

Kallen, who was certainly not going to allow her brief window of allowed exercise to be go to waste, finished her daily training, before taking the elevator up to the burn ward where they were both staying, albeit six rooms apart. She passed by her registrar, making sure she knew Kallen was back and not missing her curfew of ten to eleven in the morning, before looking through the six bed room at the end of the hall, where Naoto was staying with four other Rebellion engineers and the Densō man.

Naoto had at first been reserved for a room for himself, however he had kicked up such a fuss about being taken care of alone that the staff had had to move him back. Kallen had smiled when she heard that. Couldn't have been that badly hurt if he was complaining, she would silently joke, and it was entirely in character for him to want to stay with his team, to suffer with them and feel them be close to him and perhaps even be encouraged by his presence and his solidarity.

She poked her head in, with the attending nurse, applying creams to the arm of another Rebellion engineer, smiling and nodding her in, whispering "It's good to see you, Naoto has been wanting to talk to you."

Kallen nodded back, before walking through the room to the back bed, bed three, where Naoto was assigned. To her surprise, he sat waiting for her in a wheelchair and gown, matching her gaze fiercely.

"Wheel me out, we need to talk somewhere else."

Kallen frowned, before he jerked his chin and repeated "Come on, let's get going. We should be able to find someplace quiet."

Narrowing her eyes for a moment, she sighed and grabbed onto the back handles of Naoto's wheelchair, turning him around, and wheeling him out of the room, signing her name on the dotted line for the temporary supervised excursion. Kallen quickly found a quiet day room, where she parked Naoto, and pulled up a seat opposite him, finally being able to sit opposite him and get a clear view of his face, without extenuating distractions.

He looked alert, which was definitely a positive, but it was hard to address how he looked without talking about his face. He had a massive area of red, simmered flesh, stretching from perhaps the centre of his fringe, down across his face, tucking in so as to just avoid his nose and taper off where it met the end of the jaw. From the centre of the brow to the left, or from Kallen's perspective right, was a deep red, with a rubbery, frayed texture, cratered and pockmarked like the surface of Mars.

Of course, this was likely of no moment to Naoto, who had had almost a week to become aware of his appearance, however this was the first time Kallen had seen him, and Naoto smirked, raising his hairless left eyebrow.

"That bad, huh?"

Kallen's eyebrows rose in sudden embarrassment, as she shook her head to protest "No, it's… it's just that I've not seen it until now."

Naoto snorted, before opening his arms, putting on a mock smug grin and laughing "One hell of a glow up, hmm? Whaddaya think?"

"You're going the right way to getting me to say it's an improvement."

He laughed, shaking his head, before dissonantly murmuring "You know, they say it'll get better, it'll become less severe. Over time, I'll look a bit less… Nagasaki victim, and more… bad sunburn, spent a bit too long at the beach without suncream. But it won't. I'll die with a face that scares people, scaly, red, like wet cement someone's been walking in."

"What did you want?"

Naoto's falsetto smugness dropped, somewhat disappointed, before he shook his head and let his arms fall back down to his waist, the inertia causing them to smack loudly by his waist. He loudly sighed, tried to begin to speak, then stopped himself, then tried to speak again, again forcing himself to pause before the words reached his lips.

He shook his head, before trying a third time.

"I wanted to say… thank you."

Kallen blinked. She certainly expected something like this, particularly after his display of vulnerability once she had excavated him from the burning garage, however she had expected him to be far more reticent and find it quite difficult to unambiguously, unconditionally thank her, particularly given how their last verbal interaction had gone, all the way back in pre-season testing in Spain. However, Naoto's emotional inertia was only picking up.

"I… I just… you were the only person who was to hand, and… you didn't blink. You didn't even hesitate. I saw the footage, and you just charged in. Like you always do, I suppose, but in this instance probably for good that you did. You ran in and got a taste of what it was like, must have felt how hot and burning the whole place was, but then, when you came out with Keiji, having… having knowledge of what it was like, you then went back in for me. Then, when I asked you to try and look for Tohdoh, I didn't think you would even do it, I thought it would be a fantasy, but you didn't even blink. Having gone in once naïve and a second time knowing what it was like, you then didn't think twice about going in for a third time, let alone for someone you don't care that much for."

By contrast, this turn surprised her greatly. It was certainly not unknown to Naoto that Kallen had historically always been decisive to a fault, at times even being classed as somewhat impulsive. That she had acted with such sudden resolution ought not to have represented new data.

However, there was a second element that surprised her; that he was at all surprised she had made the decision to go in, rather than not intervene.

However, she could not voice these feelings, as Naoto marched on.

"My injuries would have been much worse if you hadn't picked up Kazuki, not even to mention how bad Kazuki himself could have come out if I'd had to just abandon him, which would have happened soon, or I'd have joined him out cold on the floor from asphyxiation. Then there's Tohdoh and… I think you're after saving his life. His face is just bloody melted, even after just a few minutes in the fire and… god, if he'd have to wait another ten, twenty minutes for help, we'd have had a death on our hands and I- I don't know if I-"

He paused, finally juddering and beginning to stall, before falling back into ironic humour as a defence, he coldly laughed "I don't know what the hell I'd have done if that had happened, he's been serving as a good, solid replacement spine over the last few weeks. God if he'd have died…"

Naoto's head finally dipped, and he began to weep. Kallen sat back, watching him empty his eyes, before looking up and observing his sister, arms crossed, waiting patiently to expedite where Naoto's thesis fell down. Once he realised Kallen was waiting for the opportunity to speak, he sat up, looking uncertain of where Kallen was going to go with this.

"Naoto." Kallen began, raising her palm and looking back with as grave face as she could muster. "It was scary, dark, and bloody hell was it sore, but I'd do it again. I could handle it. Lelouch was pretty graphic about what serious injury could do to people, and I won't have another person go through that on my account, no matter what happens to me physically. Over my dead body is there going to be more blood on my hands."

Naoto paused, mulling over this new perspective. Kallen suspected Naoto was still just moving past his image of Kallen as a selfish thug, and the best explanation of her actions through that initial lens was that Kallen was only trying to help Naoto out of purely familial affection. This was certainly an operating motivation, but not the only one. Likely overwhelmed with this new data, Naoto tried to solve another puzzle, that of how Kallen had carried the second engineer and Tohdoh.

"But… that lad, Kazuki, he was unconscious on the floor… how did you carry him out? I mean, you were propping him up on your shoulder, and I was thinking 'Kallen's a twig, how did she do that?' And then, you went back and carried Tohdoh, who's a pretty heavy lad, out from under the cabinet, all while breathing in more smoke than a character in film noir."

Hiding a moment of her chest swelling up with pride, considering it in ill taste, she replied "I didn't spend my winter sitting around once I got the Camelot seat. I thought 'Suzaku's doing well, maybe I can steal a few of his ideas.', so I spent the winter getting a bit fitter. It's paid off in racing, I'm far more able to keep up long, sustained stints of all out pushing, but it's after paying dividends."

"But… I still don't get, why did you go back for Tohdoh?" Naoto asked, confusedly blinking. "Why, into that scary, dark, dangerous place? I was out… all I did was ask, I asked once and you ran straight back in for Tohdoh without thinking."

Kallen, by this point getting irked by Naoto, let out a grunt, slapped her hands on her thighs and turned her head to the side, sarcastically wondering aloud "I really just do not know. Golly gee. I think it's the damn anger management therapy, I can't hold a grudge nearly as well as I used to be able to. I remember, I used to be able to carve a really nice grudge, a really solid one, but, with all this therapy… eh, sod it, too much effort to be doing that."

She sighed, and shook her head. "You're you, I'm me, and… we're just going to have to deal with that."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

Naoto may as well have had visible confusion etched into his face, before Kallen sighed and tried a third time.

"I'm not playing at anything. Brazil was unforgiveable… I mean, live your truth. We're both adults. You get to set your boundaries, and there's sod all anyone else is going to be able to do about it. I've made my peace with that. It's grand. But you're still my brother. If you ever need something you bet your ass I'm going to be there to help. I don't expect anything back, I'm not entitled to anything back, and you're not obliged. Doesn't mean I'm going to let the side down if you're in trouble. Same goes for anyone in our paddock."

Naoto shook his head, pointing out "You could well have sat back and not even been admitted to hospital. Why did you rush in at all, when you had no reason to-"

"Fucking hell, Naoto cop on!" Kallen shouted, now losing her temper properly. "How'd you think I'd have felt, sitting back, the only suitably dressed person on hand, only person who could actually go in, and doing sod all? What if someone had died? Do you think about how I'd feel? Sure, I'd not have burns on my hands, but I'm much rather be in the state Tohdoh's in right now than have to deal with the guilt and shame I had after Brazil a second time. It's not… fun, to deal with that, it's not a sexy or cool or enjoyable thing to have to do, and I wasn't going to let it happen twice."

Naoto's eyes now widened in shock, as he moved to the back of his wheelchair. Certainly, he had seen her be angry, especially on the cameras broadcasting proceedings in Brazil, but never directed at him, at least not since Kallen had grown into adulthood, and represented a genuine physical threat. However, Naoto did not ever appear to believe that Kallen would ever take this to violence. Rather, he seemed to be finally realising Kallen's motivation, which represented a genuine shock. The fourth time around, it had finally been hammered home, in no small part thanks to Kallen getting angry at him.

She smirked in ironic satisfaction. See, Euphemia? This was an example of where anger was useful, to hammer home a point.

And it had been hammered home, as Naoto then looked down, his neck veins practically popping out, eyes bulging as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that his sister was not the villain he had forced himself to convince himself she was, that Lelouch's injury weighed on her conscience, and that she refused to allow more people to be injured on her account from a genuine empathy as opposed to fear of social consequences.

However, Naoto seemed rapidly to snap, his head jerking up suddenly as his voice suddenly broke up, unsteady.

"Burns… on your hands? What happened to your hands?"

Kallen dipped her head in shame, as Naoto, realising he was hitting on something he had missed, continued, with the insistent voice of a concerned older brother.

"Come here… I want to see your hands…"

At first she resisted, hiding her hands in the folds of her gown around her waist, however Naoto, looking genuinely distressed, came across as more genuine. It was, ironically, Kallen's turn to be surprised; Naoto had not been irritated at her for coming in to help, he had been worried, deathly worried, at why on earth she would take such a risk with her health, not angry but concerned.

It came from a place Kallen had not expected. She had expected some arrogance, some sense of 'I had it all under control, I didn't need your help', however she had found something else altogether; he was concerned about her health.

He still loved her.

She sighed, and let her hands out from their hiding place, holding them in front of her like she was preparing to receive Communion. With palms faced towards the sky and in parallel with the ground, she displayed them; red, fierce, raw red, like a lobster shell, cracked and seared, with hardening, scaly ridges forming long trenches of blisters, hardened into a redness as bright, vivid, and tough as her helmet.

"Jesus, you-" Naoto whispered, looking down in horror at Kallen's hands. "You're burned up so… god I'm such a fool. I shouldn't have called on you at all… I should have gone in myself. I'm such an idiot..."

"Could be worse." Kallen shrugged, before giving a frustrated, sardonic side-eye. "Look at it this way. If being an idiot were a criminal offence I'd have been locked up long ago."

Naoto shook his head, before replying back "I hurt you. I caused you to have both of your arms get fried up. It's my fault, and- god, damn it. I should have gone in myself, I was just a coward, and now you're injured. God damn it, this had nothing to do with you, getting Tohdoh out was what I wanted, and instead of doing it myself I just dispatched you. Ach…"

Kallen's immediate instinct was to lash out, however she bit her tongue. It wouldn't be useful this time. Instead, she jerked her chin to the side, visibly frustrated her lips with her teeth, before looking back to Naoto with an expression, deliberately a little too earnest for Naoto to be at ease as she tried to calm herself before speaking again.

"I had to use my anger management tricks there, and a good few of them at that. Let's do a little test, why do you think I had to do that?"

Confused, Naoto replied, hesitantly "I…"

"Your legs are barely good enough to go without crutches, you were doubled over, barely able to stand, you'd been in there for ages trying to resuscitate that one sod and had inhaled more smoke than James Hunt, not to mention you didn't have a scrap of fireproof clothing! Do you think you could have lifted the cabinet, or him? You couldn't even lift Kazuki. And that wasn't your fault, you literally broke both of your legs. No one would have expected you to do even as much as you did."

Naoto looked mixed, however he hardly had the verve to cut off Kallen, who had built up a momentum of her own.

"You asked me to get Tohdoh, and I did. Do you really think that your grovelling was the only reason that I could possibly have to go back for him? As soon as I knew there was another person inside, I would have gone back, whether you told me or anyone else, because I was the only one in fireproofs, the only one who could do, anything. It doesn't matter who told me, doesn't matter who it is in the garage. These burns are nothing compared to what Tohdoh's dealing with, and I'd take these burns all over my body for him to not be as hurt, for Lelouch to not be as hurt, for you, for Kazuki or for you. I'd swap my condition with Tohdoh's if I could, if it meant that someone else would have it a bit easier. I can take it. Do you understand, like, at all?"

Naoto wasn't as shocked as he had been when she had first introduced this concept, as Kallen was silently pleased to see the Kallens understanding of acceptable risk percolating in Naoto's consciousness, finally penetrating. He seemed to finally get it, as he breathlessly spoke up, sounding close to tears.

"Kallen, I'm sorry. I think definitely… you've grown. I can see it. It's… I'm really sorry. You did a good thing, Tohdoh is safe. It's just… ach..."

"What's wrong?"

Naoto, head now firmly facing the floor, sounded like he was crying as he answered "What was one of the best days of my life… ever, just, I was back from a two year injury, I'd been told I'd never drive again, and I'd just won a race. It was, up to then, the happiest I think I've ever been, but it turned from the perfect day to one of the worst days of my life… I think only Japan 2017, and… us becoming homeless, that was worse, but seeing Tohdoh get burned half to death definitely makes the podium. I keep… thinking through it. If I hadn't been injured, if I'd been wearing fireproofs, if I had tried to do it myself, or help you when you were going in… would he be in as bad a shape as he is? Probably, but it's just…"

Now Naoto was crying, and making no secret of it. Unable to stop either herself or him, she moved forward to try and cradle his head and shoulders, comforting him as he whispered "I think… we're done."

Slowly, still holding onto him, Kallen rose, moving over to unstick Naoto's wheelchair and begin to wheel it back to the ward, before she realised something.

"Also… I thought… we weren't speaking?"

"Just a brief… ceasefire. We're still not back at that level yet. Not yet."

* * *

 **Not yet. Not closing the door, but more time is needed. Be well y'all.**

 **~G1ll3s**


	55. OK55 - Propaganda Of The Deed

**OK Number 55 - Propaganda Of The Deed**

* * *

The first batch of engineers were discharged on the Monday after that, those being the people brought in purely for smoke inhalation. It was another six days, and two weeks to the day of the fire, that the second wave of patients were released, this being the wave of non-facial burns which included Kallen. Naoto would have to wait another week, and Tohdoh might wait months for any signs of progress, but Kallen was at least in the clear, medically.

The teams had a whip round to try and assist Tohdoh's recovery in any way that they could, organising big fundraising events and social media efforts, with even a marathon being arranged for the week before the first race after the Belgian Grand Prix.

Kallen shared a joke with Gino, before reaching for a bottle of water and sliding on her shirt, complete with her chosen number eleven emblazoned in red across her chest, with even the same font and style placed in the centre of the white square as was on her car, as it was with Naoto's number ten, Suzaku's number seven, Gino's number two, and Rivalz' number nineteen, with the organisers giving the drivers accommodations, given that the event was in support of one of their own, run over the twenty-three kilometre Stavelot-Extratrail, via Place Saint-Remacle and Reanne. Xingke was a curious absence, reporting that he was not able to make the run for health reasons.

Whether they were on speaking terms or not, Kallen was especially proud of Naoto, who made it out just four weeks after suffering not insignificant burns to the face, leaving most of the left side of his face looking like raw bacon. He had already said he would not be on the pace during the marathon due to his still-fresh lungs, but his presence would still be welcome, both as a show that he had not let the burns which had disfigured him defeat him, and to attract more entrants, if even only for a chance to meet more of the fastest drivers on the planet, which would net more funds for Tohdoh.

With his presence, though perhaps not due to his presence, there were nine thousand runners who would filter through the Ardennes by foot, as soon as the clock struck midday. Kallen lined up alongside the other drivers, who would lead the group in the first stages before the rest of the runners naturally filtered past them, or at least, most of them.

Kallen eyed Suzaku as they waited for the off. Time to see if the work at fitness training had been wasted.

The airhorn sounded, and the crowd got underway, with everyone wanting to conserve their energy and not blow it all at the start, simply pacing themselves through the initial kilometres. However, as the half-marathon progressed, the crowd did slightly filter, with Naoto falling back, unable to ramp up the pace alongside the front runners. It was quite heartwarming, to look back and see, as Naoto kept strictly to his limit, most people passing him by pat him on the back as they did, saluting his resolve to fight back after being stuck in a burning building not weeks earlier.

Meanwhile, at the front, while professional distance runners had taken the lead by the fifth kilometre, Suzaku was keeping a respectable pace, the first of the racing drivers, with neither Gino or Rivalz pushing their physical limits, and Naoto's ceiling having been significantly lowered. The race within the race was not completely one sided however, as every time Suzaku looked back, he could never lose sight of a determined little toe-rag.

Kallen, though it was still requiring more effort than Suzaku, seemed to be keeping pace, so Suzaku, who quickly felt shadowed, tried to up the ante, and shake her off so he could run at his own pace. He would ramp up the speed, and Kallen would match it. No matter how firmly he pushed, Kallen, with a furrowed brow, would simply adjusted her pace to match Suzaku's, sticking to his tail fervently. He never wanted to break into a sprint, but Kallen simply couldn't be shaken, which, as they approached the halfway point, grew concerning. At eighteen kilometres, Suzaku, now at a heavy jog and Kallen only falling back by perhaps a few meters every kilometre, and seeing the rest of the route taking a downhill slant, decided to build a gap to try and demotivate her, as well as to give her less of a target to aim at.

However, to build up enough of a gap, he had to break into a sprint, and after two kilometres, he had spent his energy, having to cut, out of necessity, back to almost a walking pace, unable to go faster, and sure enough, at the twenty first kilometre, the inevitable happened; Kallen, who had maintained Suzaku's jog pace from when he had kicked it up into a sprint, had been closing in, and now, as he trundled along helpless, she streaked ahead, playing the uncharacteristic tortoise.

With Suzaku having burned his battery, he could only watch as they approached the finish, Kallen now having pulled a fifty-meter lead at the finish line, finishing the first of the racing drivers and the hundred and twelfth of all participants, with a pair of runners between the two. Kallen rushed over to drench herself in a bottle of iced water, just to cool herself off, before sipping at the lid to get some much needed hydration, as Suzaku strolled over to her.

"Congratulations" he nodded, grabbing a drink himself. "Tell you what, that was a dastardly trick that was. Why did you not just streak ahead? You could have blitzed it up to the finish, why didn't you?"

Kallen chuckled, before replying "My stint with Lelouch… didn't end well, but I did learn something. Well, don't bash someone face half to hell, but I was definitely behind the curve on that. But there was something else I picked up. It was really unintuitive for me, particularly with how you know I like to race, but I thought it would be useful here."

Shaking her head, she returned to her point. "It's not important who leads out of the first corner. No points are given for leading at the halfway interval. All anyone cares about is who crosses the line first. There was a lad… I think, it was 2010, where the then champion only led the points table once; after the last race. He'd been in second, third, or wherever, never leading it, until he pipped them at the finale."

"Time was you'd laugh at someone for saying that."

"Times change." Kallen laughed, amused by Suzaku's jab. "I don't... like it, but I'm less… reticent to it. I'm less prideful, I guess you could say. Here, in this context? I'd have blasted ahead, run out of energy, and you'd have just flew past at the end. I need to be smarter than that."

Suzaku pursed his lips, before gravely nodding and acknowledging "Well, you're putting in enough work. If you're not in serious contention, there'll be something seriously wrong in this sport. You're working so hard, and putting in so much dedication, it'd be a tragedy for you not to be up there."

Here it was, Suzaku's primary thesis, Kallen nodded. A trademark of his background, perhaps, the son of a wealthy ambassador in France, but she could hardly say she had not at least follow in his example on the effort front. He couldn't quite reckon with the degree to which his background had influenced his success, and so he had to find something else to pin it on. She was certainly in no position to judge, given how many anger issues she had sat on top of unknowingly, only uncovered when looking at her tendency to lose her temper in dedicated anger management.

However, as Kallen sat, sipping at her water canister, Suzaku dipped his head and whispered "I just can't…"

Kallen immediately snapped her head round, asking "What?", before Suzaku explained.

"I wasn't ever as talented. As anyone… from carting to Formula Ford to F3, F2, as talented as you, or, well it seems, as much as Rolo. There's not the raw talent. I would never be the most talented, but I would never be outworked. I'd take a tent to the track and just do laps all night until the sun rose, I'd… and that may well be an advantage I had, that I was in a financial position to be able to do that, but it's how I got here. But it's stopped working. I'm being beaten by Rolo, and you… you were a twig when we first met. I'd have run circles around you even a year ago, but… you've caught me from a standing start. You've managed to pull ahead of me, in spite of me just wearing myself ragged. I just…"

Kallen frowned, before rolling her eyes and turning across to face her countryman.

"Suzaku. From the middle of last year up until maybe February, you were up to your eyes in work, trying to save your team. Even from then, you've had to do more work than anyone just to keep your team afloat. Small wonder you have such little time to be focused on improving if you're burning the candle at both ends to build a brand new team. You can't reasonably be expected to keep up the other workloads you were sustaining."

"No, but I should." Suzaku insisted. "I need to be better. I can't be called a deserving champion if I can't sustain the what would ordinarily described as unreasonable. I'm not ordinary, I shouldn't be held to ordinary standards, and if I'm falling short, I shouldn't be excused just because most people would fall short too."

"Are you kidding me?"

Suzaku blinked, caught off guard by Kallen's aggression, before she then, exasperatedly, went on to offer her own explanation.

"Who do you think I latched on to? Who do you think I held up as being the one person who could beat me in an equal car, who I'm after modelling my new approach after? You of all people don't get to complain you're not working hard enough, the only reason I'm working as hard as I am is because of you! You've such drive, motivation and focus others could only wish to have, so shut up about not working hard enough."

Suzaku seemed defused by this, almost retreating into himself than making a great stand to rebut what she had said, which was definitely a positive, however, nonplussed, he asked "So, what can I do?", demonstrating at once a willingness to see Kallen's point, and a lack of any alternate framework through which it could be understood, other than the one he'd used his entire life.

Kallen sighed, and shrugged "I don't know. Sometimes it's something quite… obvious, and you'll be kicking yourself wondering how you didn't notice it. Like me, with the oscillating throttle. Maybe it's not even in your driving style, maybe it's your engineer or something. Don't immediately leap to the conclusion that it's your fault."

* * *

Lelouch sat at the head of the desk as the various sponsors and investors filed in greyly, with Lloyd, Cecile, Suzaku and Rolo already sat and waiting. Parties such as V.V. and Kaguya Sumeragi, with a far greater involvement in the financial stakes of the team, sat up close to the front, while the smaller scale sponsors sitting towards the end of the table.

He quietly reached towards his morning Kepra and Acetylcysteine tablets, dissolved into a glass of water with a numbing agent for his headache, swallowing the cold, impure water as the remainder of the attendants found their seats for the meeting. V.V. was typically aloof, while Kaguya gave a brief, motherly hug to Suzaku in spite of being much shorter and skinnier than the muscular athlete, who looked incredibly uncomfortable with how intimate his cousin seemed willing to get.

Better Suzaku than Lelouch himself, as far as the Frenchman was concerned. However, he remained on edge until she was firmly in her seat and his neck was firmly out of danger, at which point he neatened his stack of papers. V.V, looking fidgety and impatient, cleared his throat as Lelouch tried to stand, propping himself by his left arm up against the table.

"Alright. It's… just past eleven in the morning, twelfth of August of 2019. We are holding this meeting in room 12.74, to discuss the progress we have made over this year and to answer questions or concerns from our shareholders regarding performance and to review how this team has performed through the season so far. Unless anyone has any preliminary notes…?"

None arose, and so Lelouch, satisfied, continued with his summary of the season so far.

"Very good. Let's begin with our position in the points table. Rolo is on ninety-two points, and Suzaku on seventy-four points, placing them fifth and sixth in the drivers table respectively, combining to place us fourth in the constructors championship. I will leave it to Lloyd to deliver a full technical report, however we appear to be coming on stronger as the season progresses. A second in Austria was possibly a fluke, but since the tyre change, our car has proven far more competitive, with two thirds from Suzaku, and a fifth and a second from Rolo since the change has been put into effect. This is likely because, with the 2019 cars being substantially faster than the 2018 alternative, we have advanced in relative pace, even if we need more pit stops. With Lloyd hard at work, I have no doubt our standing will increase rapidly towards the end of the season."

"Oh thank you, ahem." Lloyd chuckled, halfway to blushing.

"Of course. But as I say, to have our drivers in fifth and sixth in the first year of competition exceeds anyone's expectations."

Lelouch, of course, was lying. It certainly exceeded his own expectations, not to mention the expectations of the technical team or outside speculators, the likes of whom had written think piece after think piece about how the team was on the trip to the bankruptcy courts, and would never turn a wheel in anger. These expectations had been met, as well as the expectations of Rolo, who had had his assumptions absolutely surpassed, having a wildly successful debut season against the reigning world champion.

But to say that it had exceeded anyone's expectations was still a lie, as there was one person whose expectations had not been met; Suzaku's.

Suzaku, who had probably been at his worst after Monaco, had entered the season perhaps not expecting to be running away with the title, as he had the year before, but to be comfortably in the mix, with his usual belief that effort was perfectly correlated with results.

Lelouch, having had to couch surf for a not insignificant portion of his life, had harboured a deep resentment of this view, and though he had a deep friendship with Suzaku, he despised that the Asian man believed this.

He had not been homeless from a lack of hard work. He had not struggled to meet Nunnally's medical bills from a lack of a sturdy, upright, stoic character. There were instances where people could work as hard as they could, until they fainted, keeled over even, and not be successful. Naoto, unfortunately, had discovered this all too recently, with Lelouch hearing from Rivalz, who heard from Gino who heard from Kallen, that he was absolutely broken up over being physically incapable of doing more to help in the fire.

Sometimes, the hand was junk, and no amount of sweating would make it a better hand.

Perhaps it would be good for him, Lelouch reflected. Perhaps a bit of a reality check now would mean that he would be more resilient later on. It had certainly done the trick for Lelouch, who was incredibly sceptical about sources of continued success, and cynically taking every slight advantage he could off the track.

However, satisfied with his own performances or not, Suzaku did not run this team; Lelouch did, ad Lelouch, after a brief pause, resumed "But I think I'll go to Lloyd now, for a more technical analysis of what this groups money has gone to, and what exposure it could yet acheive. Your various firms do need to see return on investment, and we intend to deliver it. Lloyd."

Lloyd looked almost surprised at being called on, and let out a surprised "Bwoah" in his typical voice tone more befitting a tenor than someone who lay around fiddling with engines and getting oil all over himself for a living. Fixing his tie, which Lelouch suspected was brand new, purpose bought for this strange, hitherto unknown concept colloquially referred to as a 'board meeting', Lloyd began in earnest.

"Um… yes. As Lelouch says, being forced to stick with the 2019 car was a blessing in disguise, as it has the pace over the teams who went back to their 2018 spec chassis. This development has had another benefit for us as well, however. The other teams had been working on the 2019 models since about this time last year, mid August, whereas our factory did not have the funds to begin the design work until January. With extremely limited time, the design and package we have been fielding since Australia has been extremely primitive, serving as a stop-gap until we had drafted a complete car vis a vis aerofoils, the barge board area, and so on, with the benefit of more time, as these elements are extremely intricate and complex. With the help of the new facilities that have come from investment, we will be able to introduce the B spec chassis in Belgium for bedding in, with many of the intricacies in aerodynamic design arriving in time for Italy."

Lloyd paused to catch his breath, letting out an airy sigh as Lelouch watched the eyes of the shareholders. V.V. was at least more positive, visibly glad to see the team was on the road to regaining its 2018 form. Lelouch had seen V.V. down at the races, and he knew that the mans dour appearance was, as well as being borne of a general pessimistic worldview, came from a genuine desire to see the team do well. It was thanks to Lelouch and thanks to Schwarzenritter that he had been allowed back into the paddock in an involved way. Lelouch had picked up on his cues, and knew that V.V. was immensely passionate about the sport at large, and having found a team to anchor his flag to, extended that hidden, introverted enthusiasm to the new team which had facilitated his return into the fold.

Meanwhile, Kaguya was being typically troublesome, however she was still shrewd and attentive, mulling over it. Unlike V.V, who was in it for the love of it, she had genuine business interests which would be well served by visibility, particularly in consumer banking. However, that exposure, which had been reported to be middling considering the size of investment and the prominence of the sponsor logo on the livery, was about to shoot up.

Because Lloyd was right. Their situation was only going to get better, and since everyone else was now having to reinvent their cars alongside Schwarzenritter, they had a chance to suddenly shoot to the front of the grid, for reasons Lloyd was now explaining.

"The reason this tyre fiasco is to our advantage is that everyone is doing this now. Everyone is starting from zero, having to revamp their cars. Since this is something we have needed to do anyway, the competition will be brought down to our level, and our growth curve has historically been far more aggressive and so, with the competition now levelled, we can pull ahead from a standing start, starting from Belgium."

Lloyd sounded uncharacteristically bullish in describing the underlying potential of the frame as a platform to leap off of, however V.V, by contrast characteristically cautious, rose a finger and spoke up.

"Is the competition too far away to catch though in terms of points?"

Lloyd was not in a position to comment, however Lelouch, who was the manager of trackside operations as the team principal as well as president and CFO, was more than qualified to give an analysis of the state of play in the title race.

"Xingke is fading. Gino has only gotten as high as he has through consistent thirds and fourths while everyone else trips over themselves, and the woman is barely ahead of Rolo. We have it all to do, but the unique circumstances mean it is not unfeasible. Naoto is an unknown quantity, however he is still within twenty-four points of Rolo, less than a race win. We haven't won yet, but with the raft of upgrades over the summer break, it can only be a matter of time."

No one asked Lelouch to elaborate on who he meant by the woman, least of all Suzaku, who Lelouch knew had been running with her in the Stavelot marathon for Tohdoh. Lelouch knew better than to undermine his best driver, the rock his team was built on, particularly in the field of identifying the weak areas of the car by driving it, with a unique understanding of car design which would facilitate their rise.

"So it's possible."

This came from V.V, and Lelouch smiled, seeing this as the V.V. he was more familiar with. The cheeky garagista, for whom it was never over until it was over, wearing sharklike grins with his overalls and flat cap. Charles had warned against working with V.V, however they had proven to be birds of a feather.

Amused, Lelouch raised a finger, to highlight the point, before making it, noting "It remains to be seen how Naoto and the Rebellion team will deal with this also. From what I've heard, Tohdoh was acting as the internal glue that was keeping the drive in the team and in Naoto, so his absence may well be felt."

"Of course." Lloyd nodded. "Though, naturally, we do wish him a speedy recovery."

Lelouch nodded, before replying "Oh and one more thing..."

After a pause, he continued "This facility has operated off of a modest factory and part assembly line for many years. While we are making our best efforts to try and upgrade our infrastructure, we only have the facilities to produce one set of parts at a time. So we have to pick which chassis these new parts will go on."

Turning to Suzaku, Lelouch tented his fingers and gently spoke "Suzaku, you're the reigning World Drivers Champion. I know this year has proven a bit frustrating for you, but if there's anyone who can drive around that, it's you. Rolo is a rookie, who is having to learn how to operate these machines for the first time. In light of this, I think you'd agree that his car needs the new parts more than yours. Your car will get the upgrades at Italy, but I trust you'll be able to work around this at Spa. After all, you're easily the most dedicated and skilled driver on the grid. Heh, what am I talking about, of course you'll be able to. Is that alright with you?"

Suzaku made a brief face, however he was, as ever, predictable. He never blamed the tools, he would just get down to the work. Combine that with a bit of flattery, he would easily accept it and knuckle down. While Lelouch didn't enjoy doing this to his friend, he had to think of the team, and who was in a better position to win the drivers championship given the twenty points deficit between the two drivers.

Suzaku, after grimacing, nodded and affirmed "Of course."

* * *

 **~G1ll3s**


	56. OK56 - Battle Again

**OK Number 56 - Battle Again**

* * *

However, once affairs such as marathons and upper management were finished, attention returned immediately to the race ahead. The drivers gathered briefly before the national anthem of Belgium to acknowledge Tohdoh, and wish him well in his recovery before they rushed to their cars for the start.

With the freeze on development over the break enforced by the FIA for cost saving, the teams went into the weekend at the Circuit de Spa Francorchamps with the same fundamental choice, between 2018 and 2019 chassis. In the wake of Kallen's success in Britain, her proximity to success at Hungary, and the fact that the car which had stolen the win, her brother Naoto's, was also running a 2019 chassis, Geely, Vanwall and Lancer were switching back to the new chassis, with the expectation that a late season update around Japan or Korea would solve the tyre challenge.

And so, while Kallen sat on Pole position for the sixth time this season and the sixteenth time in her career, as she looked up to the two, three, four, five red lights, she knew she would have it all to do to keep it.

Eyes shut, and she flexed her fingers around the steering wheel. They were still rubbery, painful to move, however she was not thinking about this. She was not thinking about anything. She was thinking about the first, dipping hairpin of La Source, riding the camber up to Eau Rouge and Raidillon, rising ten stories to brake into Les Combes.

And the last light was… out!

It was a good start, with minimal traction losses, however Kallen could only watch as behind her, Naoto and Gino dove to the inside. Naoto was close enough to brake later and pull off the move, slipping into that section of road that grooved in towards the apex and slingshotting around, getting ahead and leading the race, just as he had had to lead his team.

Certainly, he seemed to be doing just that as he led the pack up to the spine tingling Eau Rouge.

Kallen meanwhile, was battling with Gino, who had taken a similarly inside line to Naoto and they were now side by side on the approach to the flat out corner, grip limited and with extreme elevation.

And Gino had the far better line.

At some point, Kallen had to surrender the position, or else they would crash, and so from Pole she crossed the end of the first sector of the first lap in third. However, after the heavy braking zone in Les Combes, there were few opportunities to pass more as a function of the fast, undulating curves than the narrowness of the track itself, with its more smooth flow definitely not gelling with Kallen's 'point and squirt' attitude. However, she kept harrying Gino through Pouhon and Blanchimont, not quite close enough to try and force an error, but a constant reminder, a constant presence, and sure enough, he did make a mistake into the bus stop chicane, locking up his front right tyre and significantly losing retardation into the slowest complex on the circuit, allowing Kallen to nip up the inside and reclaim second place. With Naoto having built a slight gap, it was now time for Kallen, no longer hamstrung with the need to avoid hitting her teammate, to put the hammer down.

The two second gap to Naoto at the beginning of lap two had fallen to just half a second by lap five's inception, however as Kallen set up a move out of Raidillon and over the long Kemmel straight, her sterring wheel lit up yellow, as her radio chatter explained.

"Safety car is out, full course caution. There's an Ashford, Rai Lubie, stopped at La Source, we think it's engine related."

Kallen breathed briefly through her nose, before barking into her radio.

"I'm going to pit for mediums, pitting for mediums at the end of this lap."

The two stop of softs to mediums to mediums would be too slow, and require too much conservation. Kallen knew from free practice that the strategy of softs to mediums to hards, even if it was possible on this track in the 2019 cars due to the light tyre wear of Spa, was painfully slow, with the hard tyre emphatically not being up to the task of delivering the pace. Even if drivers would not have to conserve as much and be more able to push to the limit of their tyres' potential, there was only so much you could polish a turd.

If the race had allowed, she would have stayed on the only tyre she felt had any pace or grip, those being the soft, for all forty four laps, however rules required her to use at least two different compounds, and so she would take this chance to pull off the bandage and get the medium compound out of the way. Into the box, a slick stop onto mediums, and release, funnelling out in seventeenth. While it did look bad, the lap was so long and the safety car had been so early as to have the pack already bunched up quite close. Once the front runners made their stops under green flag running, she would be in a good place.

Moreover, because the lap was so long, it only took one more full rotation for the lights on top of the safety car to go out, and for the pack to get ready. Kallen kept behind the car ahead, that of Shinichiro Tamaki, as she was required to, but she made no secret of keeping immediately behind him, sitting on his rear diffuser and ready to pounce as soon as she was let out of her cage, which was as soon as she cleared the Bus Stop chicane.

Snarling and hissing, her car shot out, leaping over Tamaki's Denso and diving to the inside just like Naoto had on lap one, and began lap eight already charging back up the field. Getting the tow up Eau Rouge, Kallen then carried the overspeed to Les Combes and, with the benefit of the slipstream of a whole gaggle of cars, was able to slip up the inside of another before the braking zone

For the next seven laps, as the closed up gaggle, bunched up by the safety car, fought away, Kallen was at liberty to pick her way through them, especially as they slowed each other by going two wide into corners and compromising their exits, leaving them easy prey for Kallen, who had not been compromised, to just breeze past. By lap fourteen, she had crawled her way back up to tenth, with the tenth placed man, Luciano Bradley, being true to form; rather troublesome, weaving across the width of the track.

However, she dispatched of him around the outside of the first part of the Bus Stop, which let her skirt up and hog the inside for the second part of the right-left chicane, and now, as they crossed over into lap fifteen, people who started on the mediums were now pitting.

With the pack still relatively bunched after the safety car, and the green flag meaning that pit stops were more costly than under full course caution, she grinned from ear to ear as the position indicator on her wheel shot from ten, nine, seven, and six to finish it off.

This had seen the cadre of drivers who started on mediums and would be ending on hards now having completed their only stop. With a softer tyre than everyone who had not yet stopped, the rest of the people ahead having started on the hards, it would be a happy hour ahead as she closed in, now in clean air for the first time all race and finally able to stretch her legs.

Immediately, like Suzaku had done in the marathon, she immediately ramped up the pace, now having the freedom to take many corners flat out, particularly in the third sector, where being around and close to other cars would have prevented her from doing that. Such was the pace difference between the mediums and the hards that she was up into second place by lap twenty three, when another radio message came up.

"Another safety car, big crash up Raidillon, three cars involved."

"Okay, box now. I'm going onto softs."

There was a pause, before the engineer asked again "Are you sure?"

"Just have the softs ready."

And so, with the pack at a reduced pace, Kallen dove into the position, hoping her hunch was right as she committed to the three stop.

The softs, at least in the style Kallen drove them, would not make it to the end without losing extreme pace. However, the medium, while better than the hard, was still a disproportionally slow tyre against the benefit of one fewer stop. It was better to do two softs than one medium, and she would spend far more of her time on tyres that were much younger as all the people around her were hustling aging rubber.

At least, that was the theory. Kallen could only hope it would pay off, as she filed out of the pits, trying to get a sense of where she was, and, as it turned out, ninth was the number, with many of the people starting on the hards having stopped at the same time as Kallen to switch over to mediums, meaning she lost surprisingly few places. However, she had only been perhaps six seconds ahead of the people who stopped early in the race, and even with the reduced pit lane delta, she fell behind them. However, it could be worse; everyone in front of her but one were taking their hard tyres to the end, and at lap twenty-five when the green flag flew, with nineteen laps still to run, she was grinning.

Dive into La Source. Get the traction down, find some scrambling purchase while everyone else slid about under acceleration, kick off the side of the swimming pool to launch away from the corner, and fly up to Eau Rouge. Watch Marrybel Glinda on the inside, replacing Tohdoh, as Kallen did to her what Gino had done to Kallen, taking the outside line and trying to hold the grip around as she had the slight advantage heading up to the elevator.

However, Marrybel didn't concede the place, and it was only from Kallen's soft tyres giving supernatural grip that she did not career back across the track and into the path of the Rebellion.

But she was through, and her better exit off of turn one was still paying dividends, as she reached her redline much earlier than the pack ahead, which combined with the simply hideous slipstream that came with having the front seven machines all on one straight after a safety car made her an absolute weapon down one of the longest straights on the calender. With the cars ahead punching a hole through the air, she had comparatively next to no drag, and sped up behind them, and, as they squabbled and jockeyed for position into Les Combes, she was lining up to put her soft tyres to good use.

Diving out of the slipstream at the last minute to avoid rear-ending the cars ahead, who had to brake incredibly early with their hard, slippery rubber, while Kallen could put on the anchors almost at the apex, using the brakes to rotate the car on the inside line and slipping ahead of some five or six cars in a dive bomb worthy of Junkers JU 87 Stuka. She didn't celebrate quite yet though, not until she was able to slow the car out of the first apex and into the second, for if she simply flew beyond the limits of the track the whole effort would be for naught, however, with a little bit of lateral inertia braking, she felt her left hand side canvases just crest onto the kerb before she stopped the car's lateral movement. It had cost her a bit of get-up-and-go out of the corner, but it had moved her from P9 to P3, so it was a fair trade as far as Kallen was concerned.

It did, however, take a lap to build her momentum back up and chase after P2 and P1, who were Suzaku and Rolo. It seemed Naoto and Gino had faded, and the new chassis brought in for Schwarzenritter this race after the mid-season tyre change unintentionally levelled the development curve seemed to be doing the job, that being of combining 2019 speed with 2018 tyre wear. However, they were, either way, on the hard tyre, and for Kallen, on fresh softs, it was a matter of shooting fish in a barrel; Suzaku into the Bus Stop, and Rolo into La Source.

Lap twenty eight. Seven laps until she ditched these softs. Seven laps. There was one directive, and that was to attack the track. Seven laps to take everything out of these tyres. Push every mechanical and aerodynamic element of grip, from the tyres from the suspension from the chassis from the wings from the floor, push the limits of grip at every apex, run the track limits of every exit kerb, everything that kept the car glued to the road, kept the four wheels on the deck, kept the rubber in contact, kept it going round as fast as was materially possible. If the tyres left a corner not squealing in pain, she knew she had not run them ragged enough. This was it; this was where the hard work, the very un-Kallen behaviour would pay off, and she would fly, like she felt like when she imagined her car shooting off the edge of Raidillon if it were not stuck down by two metric tons of downforce, or at the end of the airport runway that was the Kemmel straight.

It was like Monaco, or Britain again; a tyre bumped over the kerb on entry, fly over the apex, before the car naturally snapped to attention like a rifleman, knowing that disobedience would incipit immediate reprisal. The car just operated on telepathy; it just did what she wanted as naturally as her arm would do as she wanted while reaching across a table for a cup of tea. The chassis was just an extension of her spin, the tyres of her legs, and she was running, running as hard as she possibly could to pull a gap, almost as easily as she would on her own two legs on a treadmill. Just unconscious. She may as well put on her headphones and zoned out, if it weren't for the need to keep in the loop with her radio regarding lapped traffic and pit stops. She just pulled the gap, like a thread around a loom, and she just kept on pulling, the resistance light but the string neverending. The car was impossibly synchronised with her will, it would have almost scared Kallen if she was in any sort of frame of mind that could register or digest fear, or indeed any emotion that wasn't aggression.

Lap thirty five, into the pits again. Final set of softs. All of the other people in contention for the win were on twenty lap old hards, she would be on softs, smoother than a babies rear end, and about as old. It was hunting season, and Kallen, taking no chances, was coming armed with a fifty calibre rifle.

She emerged in sixth, with nine laps remaining. She was maybe seventeen seconds behind the leading car.

And Kallen grinned. This was this sort of situation she relished.

Immediately, she not only placed the hammer down but threw it, hurled it towards the floor as she flew out of the pit lane exit almost sideways, with immense purchase propelling her up Raidillon and giving her momentum up to Les Combes. The car was on fresh tyres, and with three quarters of the race already run, she was only weighed down by the fumes that would cough her across the finish, and, unencumbered, she shot into corners, literally feeling her face tear away under the huge g forces comparable to a fighter jet in the horizontal plane. Somehow, beyond expectation that it would not stick, beyond expectation that it would follow the course of its momentum and slew off wide with the speeds she was entering at, the rudder continued to keep the speedboat on the straight and narrow as it closed up on the ferries and yachts.

Her first victim was Li Xingke, one for whom the transition away from the rubber they had started the year on had not been at all kind to, was in fifth, and she sent him down to sixth clean around the outside of Bruxelles, able to have enough grip to maintain the speed and the traction on the longer, dirtier side of the track, not just keeping side by side through the wide, long hairpin, which she already had no right to do, but in fact pulling a bit ahead, far enough ahead that she could swoop back across before turn eleven and complete the move, having the grip to keep all the speed up and wrestle the muddy pig by the neck around to the side as it snorted and tried to hurl its weight about the track, but Kallen was in no mood to tolerate this, and so began the cavalry charge down towards Stavelot.

The fourth placed Gino by contrast did not put up the resistance, knowing that his teammate was running a completely different strategy and needed to push as hard as she could without impediment, and so, after giving Kallen a draft through Blanchimont, gave way under braking into the Bus Stop, offering no resistance and wishing his teammate well on her charge.

In third place was Albert Darlton, which was initially quite confusing, however Kallen was quickly able to piece it together. He had started the race on hards, dumped them on the first stop under the lap five safety car, and had tried to finish the rest of the race on mediums with the lower tyre wear of Spa, and while he had found track position, his tyres had not quite managed to keep all the way to the finish, and he was losing pace rapidly, slower now than even the hard runners. Passing him was a straightforward affair out of La Source under acceleration, and Kallen suspected that would not be the last place he lost before the flag, which was looming more and more as the race wound to a close, with vanishingly few laps remaining, only two now, with four seconds between her and the two Schwarzenritters, running within a second of each other as they sat two abreast going into Les Combes.

Kallen was too far back to attempt the dive, however she broke early, giving her the best drive through the second part of the chicane and into turn nine, as she closed up closed up closed up came so desperately close, she could almost reach out with her arm and grab their rear wings, but they took defensive tacks through Campus and Stavelot, driving in the middle of the track, before using all the track and more to rebound up to Blanchimont, and Kallen stiffened her lips, and silently tried to summon all the bravery she could as she moved to the outside and made it two wide through Blanchimont, two wide through a corner, travelling in parallel at over two hundred miles per hour. Every fiber of Kallen's being screamed for attention, screamed that there would be a collision, but she ignored them, believing there wouldn't be, and it was so; she had glimpsed the valley, and come out in second, just behind Suzaku, who in all the commotion had gotten ahead of Rolo.

She was ready to dive to the inside of the Bus Stop, but Suzaku, on rubber that was past its use by date seemed to squirrel, which put off Kallen, and allowed him to keep his position as they began the forty-fourth and final lap of the race. She had far better traction out of the second half of the Bus Stop, however, on approach to La Source, he hogged the inside line and as Kallen tried to make the move around the outside, Suzaku crested past the apex, allowing his car to move out further and further towards the exit kerb without turning across, cutting any momentum Kallen could have picked up on the exit, before he finally turned and planted the power, which got him a major edge over Kallen, who, stuck behind Suzaku's deliberate obstruction, had to wait for him to go before she could plant the power down herself, however, as they moved up to Eau Rouge, Kallen quickly realised who this had played into the hands of; Rolo, who was the only one of the three to get a conventional line through the corner, and had easily the best exit, and so as they streaked along the Kemmel, Kallen could only watch as Rolo swept past her, and then past Suzaku and into the lead of the race, with half a lap to go, however neither Suzaku or Kallen were taking that lying down.

Suzaku closed up as they moved down towards Bruxelles, however he didn't have the grip delta to try to sweep around the outside, and while Kallen did, she was only able to move alongside Suzaku, not quite having the overspeed to complete the move. Down towards Pouhon now, and desperation was now setting in for Kallen, as she tried to go around the outside, however it was too much, and Suzaku's right rear tyre forced her into an off track excursion, meaning she would have to close back up to attempt another move.

Meanwhile, Suzaku himself was not reticent to moving up in the world either, as he sniffed around Rolo's diffuser, looking for a door, and opening, a crack, and the Frenchman did not seem to be leaving any room, however, into Campus, he covered the inside, which was his mistake.

Suzaku dutifully kept to the outside, as Rolo scrambled to slow down enough to make the second half of the corner, having a desperately shallow line and allowing Suzaku to bound out of the corner and pull alongside into Stavelot, side by side through the acceleration zone as they followed the curves and crests woven into the Belgian earth long ago home, both squabbling side by side, neither wanting to give way, each racing for the Bus Stop, the last chicane, for the end of the lap, for the end of the race, as only one left-right complex separated one of them from Schwarzenritters first ever win.

However, in their fighting, they forgot Kallen.

Kallen, who was the only one to get a good exit from Stavelot, not having to try and find a line while side by side with another driver, repaid Rolo the favour he had taken at La Source, and closed up rapidly as the tow Schwarzenritter drivers continued side by side through the flat out, grip limited curve of Blanchimont. They were intensely focused on one another, and, as they rushed up to the Bus Stop, they were still fighting away, with Suzaku on the inside as the apex approached.

Just like he had with Kallen at La Source, Suzaku tried to hold wide to his line, boxing off Rolo's approach to the finish line, however he only realised too late his mistake, as Kallen swept from the outside edge of the entry kerb across to the apex.

Suzaku, upon seeing her nip by on the inside, immediately jerked his wheel in towards the corner, however Suzaku had a standing start, and Kallen was already ahead and travelling much faster as she swung through the final corner to win the Belgian Grand Prix!

* * *

 **Bonus chapter, as today is the day I've finally finished the story draft. From now on, it's just releasing my backlog, making sure it's all up to scrutiny.**

 **~G1ll3s**


	57. OK57 - Ashes

**OK Number 57 - Ashes**

* * *

As the Kimigayo faded in recognition of Kallen's success, her posture fell from a respectful alertness, with her back as straight as a ruler, as she kicked immediately into celebration mode, leaping off the top step with her champagne in tow, landing on her haunches, shaking the bottle a bit more for good measure, before popping the cork and letting the froth roar out of the end, off the podium and down towards the crowd of engineers as she laughed with them. It was only once she felt the back of her head get sprayed by Suzaku that she turned to inflict her alcohol-based wrath on the two men above and behind her as the Camelot representative collecting the prize for fastest constructor leaped out of the way.

She had only led for 310 meters off the start from Pole, around 49,000 meters in the middle, and 173 meters at the end out of the 308,000 meters the race spanned, but that last 173 meters had been all she needed to lead to get the win. With all her skill, speed, and courage, she had only regained the lead out of the last corner, but it had been enough; she had taken the win out from under Suzaku's nose at the final turn of the final lap, and if that didn't get her blood running, nothing else would.

"Cut that one a little close, eh?" Kallen laughed down to her engineers from her elevated position, as they laughed in unison and cheered along, acknowledging that, while it was quick as all hell, it certainly had put both car, driver and crew under extreme pressure, with the race having to be conducted flawlessly to put them in contention. However, since perhaps Canada of 2018, Kallen was not one to choke, particularly not when the task was simply to drive as quickly as possible, something she had down to almost a fine art.

Her gloves were still on though, Kallen being the only person among the top three to not have taken them off yet as the other two, with sweaty palms and worn out fingers which had spent the last two hours gripping onto two ends of a twisting wheel, were barely able to wait to get off fast enough. Kallen by contrast was in no hurry to reveal the state of her hands, as the grip sensations of her clenched fist against the champagne bottle reminded her; spiking, searing pain.

The glove was fused to her hand by dried blood, with her wounds opening with the frequent opening and closing of her hand between manhandling the wheel and flurrying across the array of buttons to alter the brake balance, differential locking and battery deployment across the laps. This stretching, retracting, loosening before tightening again, had left her hands in agony, and Kallen could see the blood dried mid-flow down her wrist. Her hands could still move, but it was nothing short of hell, and Kallen had no intention of revealing to the public, and perhaps more importantly her doctor, the extent to which her hands had been burned by pulling the gloves off.

Particularly given that, with the blood now conjoining her hands to her gloves, the latter would not be separating from the former without a fight, and the violent separation of skin from body as the force trying to pull the gloves off would pull quite a bit more along with it. And so, instead, she was content to simply wave the bottle about with her gloved hands clasped around its neck, hiding the spikes of pain.

However, as Kallen clinked her bottle of champagne against Suzaku and Rolo, each with their own Jeroboam and tried to escape, she caught sight of Jeremiah approaching with a microphone and a devilish grin, causing Kallen to roll her eyes.

"Ach, can't get drunk 'till I'm done with you can I?"

"No you can't." he laughed. "And of course, for the boys and girls at home, obviously, you should never get drunk, our friend Kallen was just kidding."

Kallen's face suggested otherwise, however Jeremiah, ever noble, soldiered on, and began to ask, however meanderingly, "So, that's two wins from the last three races, and your third win of this season. Would have been three in a row but… well Hungary…"

"Nothing more needs to be said on that front. Eight kilograms is the difference between first and fifth."

Jeremiah, somewhat put off by her immediacy, nodded, and replied "Aye. Ifs and buts, but hardly as if the other drivers are immune to bad luck. Anyway-"

"No." Kallen interrupted. "I'll let you go on, but it wasn't bad luck. We made a mistake, and we can learn from it. But lets not say that there was nothing we could have done differently, or else it'll happen again. It was on us."

Taken aback, Jeremiah took a moment to recompose himself, not used to this sort of self-criticism from Kallen, before regaining his flow and resuming "Well that's fair. No team is ever perfect, and complacency will be the ruin of any front running team, but we're celebrating your success. As I said, two wins in the last three races, you've scored the most points out of anyone in the last three races at sixty, with your brother having the closest tally at forty-nine out of the last three, that places the pair of you third and fourth in the standings, hundred and thirty and a hundred and twenty-two respectively. Given the nosedive Li Xingke has been experiencing… he's only at a hundred and seventy-three, some forty-three points ahead of you, and with this momentum, are you now looking at a run at the title?"

"I mean…" Kallen mulled through, breathing out in a huffed sigh as she tried to explain. "I just try and enjoy each race. Two years ago I was green as grass, and… I mean, if you ask someone would they like a championship and they say no they should be admitted, so the answer is obviously yes, but it's not the big driving force. But I'm keeping an eye on the points, and making sure that gap to first and second isn't getting bigger, it's getting smaller."

Jeremiah nodded, before continuing "Your style is fast, and I think I'm right in saying the folks at home love to see someone do to these cars the sorts of things you're doing with them, throwing them into all sorts of shapes, but sometimes it can be very fast and feel very nice, but you lose a lot of time, and you don't always get the best result you could have done. It's worked out at Monaco and Britain for you, but sometimes it's like Bahrain last year, and even here it only just worked out for you, you only picked up the lead at the last corner. Could this possibly compromise any run at the title, or is it just… enjoying the race is more important than that?"

"I picked the lead up though, didn't I?" Kallen replied, with a sceptical eyebrow raised at Jeremiah's line of questioning. It had won her the race after all on this strategy, about as good a thing for her championship as could happen. "Mightn't have left myself much wriggle room but you don't get points for leading the most laps, you get points for leading at the flag. Not sure if there's a contradiction between enjoying what I do and being successful."

"Okay, hehehe… very good, very good, now go get drunk."

"Oh, with pleasure Diethard, with pleasure."

* * *

Suzaku saw Lelouch visibly withhold his breath, right arm flopped limply on the desk and left pressed firmly into his brow ridge, with the end of the thumb and the length of the forefinger massaging the pliable flesh. It wasn't anger as much; Suzaku had seen Lelouch be angry, be livid even as he stewed away, homeless on the couch of Suzaku's home as Genbu stayed out late for his work, and it was not at all like this. Back then there was a more calculating, quiet rage, a private, silent insistence that someway, somehow, he would get back at whoever had wronged him, and would spend every waking moment plotting and scheming to make that a reality. This Lelouch was neither calculating nor hyperfocused; he was distracted, letting out sighs, constantly adjusting his posture, seeming mainly exasperated and impatiently trying to deal with his frustration.

Suzaku was quite similarly on edge, though perhaps from slightly different perspective. Both a shark and a cod might be uneasy when they encounter in the depths of the ocean, however to equate the position of the two would be a grave error. Lelouch seemed to be approaching the end of his tether with the conduct of his subordinates, holding the leashes and simply undecided on how to apply them. By contrast Suzaku, firmly at the end of such a leash, was incredibly unsettled more as a function of nerves, being in a position where Lelouch was angry, but any reasonable response Suzaku could give was liable to set him off, which, given that Lelouch was now his employer, was probably not the wisest course of action.

"Faire chier…" Lelouch sighed. "What a bloody…"

Suzaku gulped, fearing the worst. Suzaku and Lelouch knew it. Rolo, by contrast, seemed quite relaxed, however as Lelouch tried to morph his face into a faux-civil grin, like something out of A Clockwork Orange, Suzaku expected that the smile would be wiped from his face fairly quickly, no matter how close a relative to Lelouch he was.

However, for the time being Lelouch, perhaps wanting to build up to Rolo so as to not surprise him with a sudden explosion on his lap, "So… Suzaku, would you like to explain, from your point of view, what happened on the last lap?"

It was Suzaku's turn to let out an exasperated huff, as he spoke through how events had gone down from his perspective, stumbling through how it had unfolded.

"So… Kallen was behind me, who was in front of Rolo. My priority was, as you had said, to keep her behind. She was blisteringly fast on fresh, soft tyres, and so I needed to keep her behind. I did that, I pushed her, forced her wide and away from the apex, and was leading up to Eau Rouge."

"And what happened then Suzaku?"

Lelouch had spat out the sentence with sudden venom, snapping very suddenly and seeming to be trying to send the thought flying off from his tongue as quickly as he could manipulate it. Growing frustrated at Lelouch's leading line of questioning, as Lelouch was hardly subtle about what he wanted Suzaku to explain. "Rolo was able to get a much better exit because he wasn't taking a horrible line to try and hold up a much faster car."

Pausing, Suzaku then used his hands to demonstrate the action as he explained "Rolo then snuck ahead while I was keeping the faster car behind, and led out of La Source, and proceeded to try and keep the lead despite the situation."

"What happened… after that?" Lelouch replied, barely containing his impatience as he tappeted his index finger off the table.

"You made a radio call telling us to hold station, to not attempt to overtake."

"And yet you did." Lelouch insisted. "You decided your own wants and desires were higher than the needs of the team. This could have been our very first win, all you needed to do was keep behind and not impede Rolo, not slow him up and not allow Kallen to close up. You managed to do all of these things and lose us a chance to get our first win, less than a hundred kilometres from France, just five hundred kilometres from our factory, in our first season, but no, you have to make it all about you!"

Suzaku let his shoulders fall as he shook his head, not grasping what his friend was missing, as he tried to explain "Lelouch… I lost almost two seconds through the second sector, just following him. He's a rookie, he's just a kid, and leading a race… he wasn't up to the job."

Seeing Lelouch's gaze wilter, Suzaku tried to justify what he had said, continuing "He was practically trundling through Campus, and I was just terrified that Kallen was going to get me. If I was limited to Rolo's pace, I was just a sitting duck, and then Rolo would be toast once Kallen was past. If Rolo had let me past, there would be a Schwarzenritter on the top step of the podium, however he just kept his foot in it through Blanchimont, forcing us to lose even more time going side by side. You can't prioritise minimising the time lost to fighting, and then let Rolo fight."

Lelouch pointed his index finger into the desk, pressing it firmly into the desk before insisting "There is a reason for that. First of all, his passing you on the Kemmel straight did not lose either of you time, he went past with the better exit speed and there was nothing that could be done. Furthermore, Rolo had the upgrades we made for this race, and is ahead of you in the championship. That doesn't mean you're worse or he's better, but he was the driver in front and with the faster car, even if not the faster package. I sent out that message once he passed you to avoid exactly this."

"Then why was he so slow?" Suzaku replied, now growing deeply irritated. "Kallen was breathing down my neck all the way through Pouhon, and without disrespect to Rolo, keeping him in the lead was not the way to maximise our points haul."

"Well then why did you hold Rolo and yourself up so much through the Bus Stop, allowing Kallen to win?"

"Because Rolo was stretching his elbows and fighting me off!" Suzaku snapped back, now fully angry. "You yourself stressed two laps earlier about how important it was to not lose time to one another, and I was losing time hand over fist from Rolo's bad wake. I needed him to increase the pace to win, and he wasn't budging, so I tried to make it painless with a pass through Blanchimont. Instead, he kept his nose in all the way. If you're asking about who acted without the best interests of the team in mind, Rolo's done as much harm as I have!"

Not able to immediately counter, Lelouch, sat glowering in a wicker backed chair, bitterly pressed his left fingers into his temple, before shaking his head and trying visibly to start again.

"Look… Suzaku… we- I've been depending on you."

Suzaku immediately moved to a position of greater attention as Lelouch moved to a new position of conversational intimacy. Through Lelouch's entire career, he had been at pains to depend on as few people as possible given his operating and substantial memory of crutches and people he had leant on before suddenly leaving him falling without warning. For him, the goal was always to be as autonomous as he could, to have his welfare and the welfare of his family as disconnected from the decisions and actions of others as it could be, disconnecting himself from whatever threads he was dependant on, as he had long known from experience that all he could rely on completely was himself.

In some sense, this was why Kallen's injury had been as impactful as it was; beyond the direct physical impediments, his hard-fought independence, which he had been seeking since being thrown out of his house by his parents to fend for himself, had suffered a major blow, as he had to reintegrate himself however begrudgingly with systems of dependency, which for all he knew could fail with the scribble of a pen.

The upshot of all of this was that Lelouch stating unambiguously that he had, without reservation, been depending on, put himself in a position where he was relying on, where he was placing some element of his own success in the hands and skills of Suzaku, was not a small statement. While it lacked the dramatic flair of "I trust you", "I believe in you", or anything slightly more emotive, saying "I am depending on you." was probably even more impactful given Lelouch's particular context, such that even Rolo leaned forward and widened his eyes, though borderline imperceptibly.

In light of this newly injected sincerity, Suzaku retreated somewhat, becoming less antagonistic as Lelouch presented himself with more vulnerability and trust, before he continued.

"We've all been depending on you, and that isn't… something I find intuitive. You have proved that you're… a spectacular driver, an incredible talent with winning last years championship with a team on deaths door. I know you didn't get into racing to just sit behind and hold off another driver so that the team can score a win with another driver, I com… completely get that. But right now we can't afford to just be doing what we want. We need to put the team first."

"Yes sir."

At once irritated by and understanding of Suzaku's usage of the term, given both the lengths Lelouch had gone to to emphasize and assert his authority, and the more submissive approach Suzaku was taking in light of Lelouch's usage of the word 'depending', Lelouch sighed and, though sympathetically, chastised "You disobeyed a direct team order. This isn't like you. You've been immeasurably great in helping to direct the development of the car, and you're a vital element of this team, but a great driver knows when to push and when to play it safe. You made the wrong call today, and cost us our first win."

Suzaku bit into his bottom lip uncertainly, before raising his finger and commenting "I have a question."

"Please."

Suzaku held his breath for a moment, before going on "You said Rolo was getting the upgrades because he needed more assistance, that he wasn't as skilled and that I would be able to work around not having it better than he would, and that may well be so. But if it is, if giving that upgrade to him was because he needed it more to jump onto my pace, and it's worked and he's faster than he was before, he'd still only be maybe at about my level of speed and lap time."

Pausing briefly to highlight his point, Suzaku, keeping a close eye on the colour of Lelouch's skin, continued "That was borne out by how close we were all race, we were at about the same pace. If you were prioritising the faster package, Rolo wasn't any faster than me, even if his car had the upgrade. Heck, if I was keeping up with him without the upgrade, I must have been going at quite a lick, if there wasn't any difference in pace between us then I was extracting a much higher percentage out of a worse car."

Lelouch blinked, before asking "What are you saying?"

"If team orders were key, Rolo would have observed the earlier one to not fight before he overtook at La Source. This whole affair would not have happened if Rolo held station into Les Combes. He'd have filed in behind me and played defence over the length of the Kemmel, or at the very least taken more margin. But you can't have your cake and eat it too, either Rolo needs to observe team orders too, or neither of us should."

The room went deathly silent, as Suzaku quietly realised he may have crossed some sort of third rail. Lelouch now wore a face of stone, before he shook his head and scribbled a note into a post-it in front of him.

"I'll bear that in mind in the future." the team principal curtly replied. "You're getting the new parts for Italy, so you'll have the chance to prove it. Show that you need it more, that you're more deserving, and we'll change the order of priority for the next upgrade."

* * *

Lelouch did keep his word as the sport moved to its final track of the European leg of the season, the Autodromo Nazionale Monza in Italy, the third oldest dedicated motor racing circuit on the planet buried within the deep forest of the Milanese hinterlands. Suzaku, perhaps for having been so combative in the post-race briefing, was amused to receive several prolonged explanations and visual comparative demonstrations that he had definitely received the upgrades. They propelled him up to second on the grid, behind Kallen, who started on Pole position in something that almost seemed to be a given at this phase in the season. He definitely felt the effect, particularly on the long runs where air would now be funnelled out and away from the tyres, reducing drag slightly but reducing tyre heating immensely, almost by an order of magnitude, a relief which would be welcome at a track like Monza, which consisted almost entirely of slow-speed acceleration zones into long straights, which would be light on the front tyres but lethal on the rear tyres, which would have to endure full throttle accelerations from an almost stationary position one hundred and fifty three times over a race distance.

Moreover, with the financial might of Camelot finally now delivering an equivalent upgrade to both of their 2019 cars, there could not be a better time for Suzaku to have something to fight back with.

"Let's see who's faster now that we've got equal cars." Suzaku hissed to himself as he sat at the wheel of his car having arrived at the grid, waiting for the off. Rolo was starting fourth, and was just now behind him as the first of the five red lights lit up.

Suzaku steeled his lips and grasped the wheel, flexing his fingers as they sat wrapped around the moulded handles. Time to remind this rookie of his place.

* * *

 _Li Xingke – 173 (5 wins)_

 _Gino Weinberg – 141 (1 win)_

 _Kallen Kōzuki – 130 (3 wins)_

 _Naoto Kōzuki – 124 (1 win)_

 _Rolo Lamperouge – 107_

 _Suzaku Kururugi – 92_

* * *

 **A bit of drama, though it is hardly resolved. The various characters have significant foibles, which inherently bring them into conflict due to their inability to reconcile their opposing incentives.**

 **As such, I'm sure this can only end amicably.**

 **Beyond this, please leave a review on this chapter if you would be so kind, and thank you so much for reading. Have a great New Years!**

 **~G1ll3s**


	58. OK58 - The Monzezi Screwjob

**OK Number 58 - The Monzezi Screwjob**

* * *

Kallen buried the throttle some ways into the mantle as he straightened the car through the Parabolica, as Suzaku, sitting just behind, having followed her relentlessly through the Lesmos and Ascari, now ready to set up a move on the long straight before the first chicane. While Kallen squirrelled to try and put the power down, having to take three or four progressive bites of the cherry to get the tyres up to speed as early as she could, having to fight the car to progressively pick the throttle up earlier and earlier, as it visibly became laterally unstable under the initial acceleration. The only reason it stayed on the road was aggressive, and Suzaku internally repeated for emphasis, aggressive counter steer.

By contrast, Suzaku applied the throttle gently, rolling on perhaps a tenth in the first phase, gradually, slowly ramping it up, never too jerky, never too hasty, never too sudden a change in forces or torques between engine and axle, axle and wheel, and wheel and tarmac that would overwhelm any element, stressing it such that it fell below peak efficiency. It was a buttery progression up the gears, up the throttle from barely felt, with Suzaku never increasing the throttle application until he was certain he would not need to take it off again until the braking zone in just under a mile.

It was lap forty-five of fifty-three, with Suzaku and Kallen having separated from the chasing pack some time ago, in a race of their own, largely aided by the slipstream on this circuit dominated by straights. At speeds approaching two hundred miles per hour, the air resistance would make driving in a dead straight line as difficult as driving through cold molasses, or pudding. However, once the air had been headbutted away by the leading car, the car immediately behind would be driving in their wake of air, and experience much less air resistance and hence more speed.

In this way, with the pair trading places every lap as the one behind picked up the tow from the other, they had pulled away together, having spent the entire race within about a second of one another, from start, to pit stop, to now, as Suzaku pulled out of the slipstream with the overspeed to the inside, the pair stuck together like glue as the rest of the grid slipped back, a few tenths per lap as the leading pair pounded round, neither wanting to surrender the lead as each one pushed the other closer, closer, closer to the limits of what they could do with their cars, each having to extract an amount of pace from the package that kept creeping closer to one hundred percent of what it could do.

However, even as Suzaku easily had the legs on her this time and was ahead going into the first corner, he knew she would be back the next time around when he was punching the hole through the air and Kallen was going to be the one in the slipstream and with the speed advantage the next time they came through the Parabolica.

And so it was in spite of Suzaku's best efforts, with Kallen able to soar through the mass of air like a hot knife through butter, as they both moved down the track at the limit. However, as Kallen moved to the inside, Suzaku could not help but notice her rear tyres, now severely blistered with how hard she had been running.

Sure enough, as Kallen broke up the inside, cementing her position for this lap and making this the eighth lap in succession the pair had swapped places on the front straight, and the thirty second time this race, it appeared Suzaku was not the only person who had noticed, as Lelouch immediately spoke up over his radio, blaring over the sounds of the engine and the tyres.

"Okay, Suzaku, whatever Kallen does, do the same as her. I repeat, do the same as her. You've both been pushing hell for leather on these tyres since you've pitted and we don't know how either of your tyres will hold up, particularly the rears, and there is a risk of failure, but we'd rather you cover Kallen off just in case. If she does go on, you're going to the end of the race. If she starts moving towards the pit lane, map engine to torque one and box. Affirm?"

Suzaku gruffly tried to chase Kallen through the Curva Grande to make an unorthodox move into the second Variante, ignoring Lelouch briefly as he considered a dive, threading a thin needle, but there was no having it, with Kallen bullishly planting her flag in the middle of the track, giving no way through.

"Can you confirm you understood that message? We can't risk you getting a puncture."

Suzaku cursed as he tried to adjust into the first Lesmo, before thinking it through. Suzaku's tyres definitely felt more than a little worse for wear, Suzaku's rear tyres experiencing a hint of oversteer on what was an incredibly understeery setup, laterally slipping under outer load. Sensing that his setup might be masking the severity of the problem, Suzaku finally spoke up on approach tot eh second Lesmo.

"How bad is it?"

"Kallen is pretty bad, and you've been harrying her all day, we don't want to take any risks."

Suzaku digested this, before coming to a realisation. While the pair of them had pulled out quite a gap, his onboard telemetry didn't tell him how far it was to the car behind. As they approached Ascari, he roared "Is it safe to come in to pit and retain P2 at least? Are we far enough ahead."

"Pit lane is safe, it is safe it pit, we'll be ready for you."

As they flew through Ascari, Suzaku watching the rear of Kallen's car scooch slightly to the edge of the track limits in a four wheel drift as it exited the triple apex left-right-left. As well, Suzaku's tyres, now that he was paying close attention to them, were beginning to go beyond their temperature operating range, though not due to a failure in the upgrades; the known problem with these tyres, even before they were brought back, was that if they were following another car, the hot, dirty air would accelerate the overheating, and given that Suzaku was spending every second lap in Kallen's wake, just as Kallen was spending every second lap in his, it was entirely feasible that his were going out, particularly with how much Suzaku had insisted on leaning the setup towards stability and consistency.

Suzaku knew that there was no way he could ever beat Kallen in qualifying. Her one lap pace was insurmountable, and so he had tried to play it smart; whether he went for a purely qualifying setup or a purely race setup, he'd still start behind Kallen, so he had set up the car with a deliberate emphasis on race pace, allowing her to take Pole by over a second, and simply kept up in the race, where his setup thrived and hers wilted.

He had thusly tried to reverse what Kallen had done to him at the Belgian marathon; he had simply stuck with her, forcing her to progressively ramp up her pace until she had exhausted her tyres and fold. He had been relentless, unceasing, just keeping the pressure on, keeping the pressure on, but he had inflicted some damage on himself, possibly ruining his own tyres.

However, if Lelouch said it was safe to pit, then it would be a wash. At the very least, the slipstream would keep Suzaku within striking distance, making the chance of a win for the team effectively a coin toss.

And, sure enough, Kallen held tight to the inside, and Suzaku spoke into the radio again.

"Kallen is coming in, I'm coming in as well. Arriving in now."

He immediately went to switch his engine map to T1 and D1, for torque and deployment, as he followed Kallen, who dove into the third box along for fresh rubber. However, because this was the first year Schwarzenritter had entered the sport under its current entry, Suzaku had to crawl to the tenth and final garage along the row before his crew could service him.

They did at least have the decency to do that much, providing a slick stop that saw him emerge just behind Kallen as they both crawled up to the end of the speed limited area. However, as they both flicked the limited up and gave their new, soft tyres that would only have to take them another six laps, Suzaku suddenly realised something had gone very, very wrong; they were emerging between two groups of traffic, and not back into the lead of the race.

Immediately, Suzaku leapt back onto the radio, screaming "I though you said it was safe to pit!"

"Rolo was not going to pit, there was no risk of danger if you pit or losing time to double stacking. Push hard now, only a short stint to go, I believe in you. You're P11 on fresh tyres, give 'em hell, you're much faster."

Suzaku swore, and then swore again, and then hit his knuckles off his steering wheel so hard it cracked the screen.

Just as he had tried to the lap before they had pitted, once again Suzaku sniffed down the inside of the second Variante, though with far less verve as the stakes had been deflated in the same way a balloon after contact with a thumbtack was deflated.

They ducked and dived with their fresh tyres giving them much more control authority, however with only one point on offer, they were both less than enthused, seeming to onlookers as if the pair were just going through the motions. Suzaku got ahead on the next straight, and without the need to preserve his tyres, he kept it, aggressively moving to the inside with a grumpy hostility.

At this point, the pair were just playing out the string, too far back from the sharp end to mount a heroic comeback.

And so it finished with a whimper, the pair mutually cross as they crossed the line to wrap up the Italian Grand Prix in tenth and eleventh, with Suzaku picking up the single point, though it was little comfort to the frustrated Asian, who was simply thinking 'What a waste' as he pulled into the pit lane for inspection, shaking his head.

He climbed out of the car with a sour taste in his mouth, shaking his head as he spoke through the radio to the wall as he walked past the cars and back to his garage.

"What a disaster, what a bloody disaster, honestly… who in the hell even won this race anyway?"

* * *

"And the winner, from France, taking the maiden win for Schwarzenritter-Lamperouge, is the rookie driver, claiming his first win as well, Rolo Lamperouge!"

The eighteen year old laughed as he let the champagne spray, initially up vertically before her tipped it on its side, directing it towards Naoto. It was only a good job he was on the podium in Italy as opposed to the United States, as here he could actually drink the champagne both Kōzuki and, appearing on the podium for the first time this season, Villetta Nu were spraying at him. He pumped his fist and leapt off the podium, feeling absolutely electric.

While a party was happening in the Schwarzenritter garage, Kallen was conversing with the teams aerodynamicist regarding the performance of the new upgrades. The improvement had been noticeable, but the parts, while great in isolation, had not met up to the sum of their parts, with the airflow suffering minor diversion away from the barge boards.

Kallen had explained what she had felt, which beyond the way the car drove primarily manifested in extreme buffering of air against the sides of her helmet, with the airflow going too high and not connecting with the rear engine cover as it flattened and providing a seal for the diffuser.

Sympathetic, the designer nodded, before exhibiting a skill Kallen had long envied, that being the capacity to internally map abstract three dimensional space in her mind, visualising its form without either losing critical detail or perspective due to the mass of work her brain was having to do to build a mental map of shapes.

"Here…" Kallen pointed, shaking her gloved hands about the areas either side of the central air intake. "It all goes up here."

As the designer looked over the area, Kallen pulled back her arms, which two weeks after Spa were still hard, dry, scabrous, and liable to undergo sudden extreme bleeding whenever Kallen tried to stretch the skin between her knuckles and her wrists, or any time she clenched or relaxed her fists. She had been able to fight through it both times, however, with the possibility of winning taken away so suddenly, she lost much of the spirit she needed to continue to push through the pain.

However, while Kallen tried to draw attention away from her hands, the aerodynamicist shook her head and sighed, trying to let Kallen down gently.

"Look, I'm really sorry-"

"Here, stop." Kallen interrupted, waving her hands in front of her face absentmindedly, stopping her before she could even get going. "There's no need for that, I'm not going to bite your head off. You're after making huge progress, and you've designed a far better car than I ever could. I know you're working hard. It's not a bother, I believe in you. None of us are slacking, that's not the problem, we just need to be smart. Trying to find someone to blame isn't being smart."

The engineer smiled, before nodding appreciatively "I understand, thank you for that."

Kallen nodded in turn, placing her hands on her hips and continuing "I know how much you're having to concentrate to get this right. I'm having to give it everything to deliver all we can, and I know you're doing that too. We're both important parts of hauling that car around a track faster than everyone else. I can't do it without you and you can't do it without me. It'd be no good for me just to prance around and pretend that wasn't the case. I'm trying to help observe what areas need focus is all. I've no doubt for a moment you can do it."

"Cheers Kallen, I'll get back to the factory and get to work. Should have a stop gap ready for Japan."

"Now that'll be timely. I've not won there yet, so I'll be looking forward to trying it out."

"I'll get right on it."

Kallen nodded as she scurried away, before she heard someone clear their throat off to stage left. She turned her head, to see Suzaku, clearing hiding a deep tiredness behind an otherwise chipper mood and presentation, as he smiled towards her.

"Were those.. leadership skills I saw there?"

Kallen smirked, and sarcastically replied "I'm full of surprises."

"Undeniable, but you never seemed like much of a team player." he laughed, acknowledging Kallens point. "Always more of a 'Leave me alone, I know what to do.' sorta woman."

"I've discovered the long hidden secret that it's actually easier to work with people than punch them in the face. You get better results with honey than salt."

Suzaku blinked, before raising his finger and commenting "That saying was about catching bees, and also it's vinegar, not salt."

"I slept through European Literature." Kallen shrugged, laughing it off. Knowledge of the classics might enrich the soul, but it would hardly give a few extra tenths over a lap, and so it had never concerned her, something she went on to underling by noting; "Never got all that academic stuff. But anyway. I've got enough problems without the team cross for me being bristly and temperamental about upgrades. Besides, me and Gino are the two big conduits for the team, so I might as well be patient. There's a big spotlight on me in the team, and… well I don't care too much about it, but insofar as I can influence the mood of the team I'd rather have a positive impact than a negative one. Doesn't take much to do, and it does a lot of good, so why not?"

Suzaku shrugged, not able to really deny any of that before admitting "Just didn't seem like that was really you."

"This has been maybe the smallest change I've had to make in the last year. Your exercise regimen was definitely harder at the very least."

"Fair enough." Suzaku laughed, before his eyes dipped towards her hands, still gloved, placed on her hips. Kallen, sensing Suzaku's suspicion, immediately changed the topic, spurting out "Are you alright? What is it you need?"

"When did they call you to pit?"

Kallen frowned, blinking confusedly "Eh?"

Suzaku blushed, shaking his head awkwardly before explaining "Sorry, sorry… I mean, did you make the call to pit, or did they call you in over your head? On the radio?"

She looked down, thinking through it, before explaining, slowly as the thoughts materialised, how "I… I didn't want to pit, but I was just feeling like the rears had gotten so hot they were about to melt the whole rear axle, I was sliding everywhere, and not even the sort of sliding that's fun, that I enjoy. It was just… not as controlled as I was comfortable with, which is normally a sign I've taken too much out of them. I made the call. Paid for it though."

"So that was your call?" Suzaku repeated. "You were feeling it in the tyres?"

"Took all I had to keep it ahead of you."

Suzaku wiped at his forehead, his frustration growing more visibly apparent, before "When did you make that call? Over the radio I mean?"

"I think after the first chicane, I got an awful fright under acceleration. I was playing it very conservative from then on, as you probably saw with how I defended into the second chicane. I wasn't ambiguous either, I was pretty much 'I'm coming in this lap, your choice as to whether you give me new tyres or just leave me sitting there, but I am coming in either way.'"

Suzaku's face, if it hadn't already wilted, positively shrank like he had swallowed the worlds most intense lemon. Moving past the visibly bitter taste, he simply shook his head, taking several moments to speak again.

"I see."

He immediately turned and began to walk out. Worried, Kallen shouted back "Hey, Suzaku!"

He turned back, blinking, before Kallen asked "You're not cross with me, are you?"

"No, no." Suzaku laughed, waving the notion off. "It was a great duel."

Kallen nodded, looking down before commenting "I hope… whatever you're cross about gets sorted out. It was great fun to be fighting that close for so long."

Suzaku raised his arm, pretending to be raising a glass before agreeing "Here's to more of that. Though, perhaps in future, let's both not pit with four laps to go and snatch defeat from the jaws of victory."

She shook her head, and simply shrugged "I couldn't go on. It felt like it did at Malaysia, or Austria, it just wasn't safe. Long and short of it. That didn't mean you had to stop though, your tyres were in pretty good nick I thought? Right?"

* * *

 _Li Xingke – 183 (5 wins)_

 _Gino Weinberg – 153 (1 win)_

 _Naoto Kōzuki – 142 (1 win)_

 _Rolo Lamperouge – 132 (1 win)_

 _Kallen Kōzuki – 130 (3 wins)_

 _Suzaku Kururugi – 93_

* * *

 **Dun dun DUUUUUNNNNN!**

 **~G1ll3s**


	59. OK59 - The Fifth Column

**OK Number 59 - The Fifth Column**

* * *

"Ah, Suzaku, welcome back! I'm glad to see you, we've really turned a corner today. It's amazing, our first season and we've already-"

"Shut the fuck up Lelouch."

Lelouch visibly blinked in shock as Suzaku sat down across the desk from him, with Suzaku's sudden bark almost scaring him out of his skin. The Asian's vocal chords was primed and deployed in a moment, at what Spinal Tap would describe as at least a volume of twelve. Suzaku could see that Lelouch was caught so off guard that he couldn't even speak before the driver had made his way across the room, into his seat, planted his elbows on the desk and began to bark again.

"What the hell was that? You said it was safe to pit, and lo and behold, I come out in bloody eleventh. Whose bright idea was it to pit me?"

Lelouch's eyes suddenly widened, as Suzaku saw immediately that the Frenchman knew what his employee was so livid over, hot as a welding arc held just in front of Lelouch's face, ready to stray left at a moments notice. Moreover, Suzaku knew Lelouch knew he was not normally this aggressive or confrontational, leading to the conclusion, etched into every line in Lelouch's face, that this uncharted water should be sailed through with caution, and trepidation.

"Kallen… was on very worn tyres, tyres that you had been matching pace with all day. We didn't want to take any risk of not scoring any points."

Suzaku barely contained his fury, feeling his already heavily tanned face darken by another tone, before he took a strained breath and, as calmly as he could, explain "We had a pretty big chance of scoring eighteen or even twenty five points, but you decided to take a certain chance of scoring one point? Hell, not even that, I came out in eleventh, just outside the points, I would have had to overtake Kallen to even score points, which wasn't a certain thing. In reality, it was a big chance of scoring big points, or a fifty-fifty chance of scoring one single miserable point. I'm sorry, but that explanation reeks of bullshit."

Lelouch blinked, before asking, seemingly oblivious, "What do you mean?"

Suzaku almost facepalmed, before, with his hands tensed up into solid blocks in sheer frustration, replying "You have gone on about playing the odds since you clambered out of the womb. Not only have you always taken the small chance of scoring big points over the big chance of scoring small points, but there wasn't even that choice here. Here, we would score massive points unless the very small possibility of a tyre failure ended up happening, or we could there would be a massive possibility of scoring no points, contingent on whether I could get past Kallen on the last lap. This doesn't work out, doesn't make sense, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm a bit sceptical."

Now Lelouch frowned, shaking his head and spluttering out "I… what? The tyres… what do you mean?", in an unconvincing attempt to try and portray Suzaku's analysis as some form of surprise.

However, Suzaku knew what made the Frenchman tick, and the more he spoke, the more and more the pieces aligned in his head. Pointing his index finger at Lelouch accusingly, Suzaku repeated "This wasn't a low risk, low reward against high risk, high reward situation. This was low risk, high reward against high risk, low reward. I know you, and you picking the latter says a lot about who you wanted to win that race."

Unable to hide his understanding anymore, Lelouch simply had to throw up his left hand, his right hanging limp by his side and sarcastically declare "Sorry! I'm so sorry, I'll let your tyres break open and let you spear off into the barriers at two hundred miles per hour next time! Just because you weren't feeling any danger doesn't mean it wasn't there!"

"Well it was pretty convenient that you had a second driver in P3, mm?"

Lelouch finally dropped the mask just a bit, his face going from flippance to panic in an instant with his eyes widening and entire posture shifting one that just screamed panic, sheer animal panic on a primal level. It was only for a millisecond though, as he was quickly able to reassemble himself from that off the cuff moment.

However, Suzaku was not finished, continuing on his insistent questioning with little sign of losing momentum any time soon.

"Would you have called me in if Rolo hadn't been behind? Hm? In fact, he was just behind us, and you didn't call him into pit. He stayed out, and won the race because I was asked to stop. Why didn't you stop him as well, if it was so obviously the right thing to do? If safety was such an operating concern, surely the one big, operating concern, before anything else, would be your family? Protecting your brother, your younger brother, who you have gone to war for, would surely be such a pressing concern for you, if there was even a hint of risk about a blowout… you'd have pitted Rolo almost on reflex if there was a hint of danger on our cars."

By this stage, Lelouch, having recovered his composure, decided, true to form, that the best form of defence was attack, snapping back "Why would I do that? We scored a first and a tenth, rather than the first and the second we deserved. What, do you think I'd sabotage my own driver?"

However, Suzaku, even if this whole prolonged explosion had certainly not been true to form, was in no mood to be out-shouted, and stood up and over Lelouch, pressing his index finger now into the desk before shouting "I've known you for almost a decade. You would do anything for your family, a damn bloody admirable trait, but it's not one that will weigh in my favour if it all comes down to choosing between me versus Rolo. Pitting me to have your brother win a race? Yeah, I'd chalk that up to something that's well within your bloody repertoire. It's all about you."

"You're being ridiculous." Lelouch sighed, shaking his head in exasperation, visibly fed up with this and wishing silently he could be anywhere else right now. "We didn't even know if Kallen would pit, only that she possibly could do, and that we should be prepared to cover her off."

"Except you did."

Lelouch blinked again, before replying urgently "Excuse me?"

Suzaku jerked his thumb back up over his head, before explaining "I just talked with Kallen, who said that number one, the initiative to pit came from her, and number two, she didn't give them any choice. She said that she would come in whether they wanted her or not, so you weren't uncertain, it wasn't up in the air, it wasn't an 'if'. It was an excuse."

Lelouch shook his head, and tried to begin, sighing "Suzaku-"

However, Suzaku didn't give him a second, pressing the offensive; "You knew she was coming in for a fact, for a fact, and yet you hid behind the need to cover her off if she pitted. You knew she was going to, so you had the chance to think this through, it was hardly sprung on you. Whatever happened to doing the opposite of the person you're fighting?"

Lelouch, now appearing more tired than anything, shrugged the allegation off, without really explaining why, and simply replied "The situation has changed, we have pace now. So what if we had time to plan?"

"It's part of a pattern with you." Suzaku hissed accusingly. "I couldn't make sense of it at first. I just thought it was on me, that's always been how I frame it when things don't work out. I haven't worked hard enough I would always say. You saw that back at Monaco, when I was going through a lot of stuff. But I've had the summer to think, and I've realised it wasn't just me."

Lelouch couldn't quite summon up the words to counter this more vague and undefined accusation, certainly not in as brief a window of time as Suzaku gave him before beginning to shout again.

"Let's do a quick history lesson. Australia, I'm on for a good finish if I keep up with the cars ahead, but instead, when I pit, you tell me to slow and hold up the cars behind, so that Rolo, who hadn't pitted, could pull ahead and get a free stop and leap up the grid. You've given him pit preference, given him the early upgrades, and then there's Spa. You give orders to not overtake. Rolo breaks this instruction, you don't bat an eye. I do it, you're all over my case. There's a reason I'm so far down, I just wouldn't let myself see it, because I thought you were a mate; every chance you get, you pull me back to get Rolo ahead. In your eyes, Rolo had to get our first win. Rolo had to be more successful. Well no more."

Lelouch had cringed and winced with every instance Suzaku highlighted, retreated further and further into himself as the Asian driver outlined the manifold inequities; the Australian strategy, giving Rolo the first call on the stops, giving him the first upgrades, the inconsistency at Spa, the calamity that had been this race at Italy, it was a pretty incontestable indictment.

However, the last three words visibly set a chill through Lelouch's spine. Suzaku could see it, could see Lelouch jerk bolt upright as if charged by a sudden surge of electricity as he sat, hanging on every word religiously. The last three words could spell anything, and as Lelouch looked up, eyes almost pried open as Suzaku closed his in turn and continued with a sigh.

"As soon as my contract expires at the end of the season, I will be driving for another team. I can't be successful at this team, not if the Principal is pulling for another driver. Today was the last straw; I'm about to win, so you pull me into the pits to throw the race in Rolo's favour, have him be our first winner, even if it means sabotaging my race. It's literally your most consistent pattern, you look after yourself and your family to a fault."

Lelouch wrinkled his nose, cynically replying with a sceptical huff "You've been hanging around Kallen too much, these are exactly the sort of things she'd be saying."

"Yeah, well with the way you've been carrying on I'm far more inclined to believe it actually was intentional, what you did at Brazil, something I've not even considered believing before."

Lelouch's reaction to this was quite different to his reaction to Suzaku's previous accusations. Previously, his reactions had varied, oscillating from outrage, confusion and incredulity, however now, a fourth had been added to the roster; sadness, with a sporadic sprinkling of fatalistic disbelief. He seemed to have been taking Suzaku's faith for granted, and was now for the first time waking up to the new reality of it not existing, incredulously spluttering out his pleas.

"So what are you saying? You're going to leave this team? The one that's looked after you since your debut? I'm the one who kept the lights on, would you rather I let the whole sodding operation go belly up, let all these people go unemployed?"

Suzaku sneered. Guilt tripping was a tactic that would have found great success on Suzaku, as Xingke had exploited at the GPDA meeting before Silverstone. However, Suzaku, in no mood to be played around anymore, and armed with quite a bit more self-assurance, didn't buckle, and instead doubled down, replying with a new aggression; quieter, but perhaps more disdainful. Less hot rage, and more cool rage; still equal quantities of rage, but more measured, doled out with more discipline.

"First of all, that's a great attempt at changing the topic. Second, you saving the team was a good thing, and if that's how you want to run it, letting the slower driver have his ego boosted by getting the lad in front to stop again for no reason, you're welcome to. It's yours, you bought it, do with it as you please. But I don't want a part of that. I don't want to be a driver on a team like that. More importantly, I can't be successful on a team like that. There might be the odd race, but I'll always only be as successful as Rolo and you allow me to be. So. I wish you well, and will not be renewing my contract at the end of the year. As they say in your language, adieu."

Suzaku, with nothing more to say, simply stood and turned towards the door.

"Suzaku…" Lelouch suddenly cried out, beyond Suzaku's sight. "Please, don't… you helped me out when we were young, please don't leave, I… I don't know… we won't be doing any of that stuff you talk about. Please, you have meant so much to me, please don't leave, _please_!"

"Oh no." Suzaku contradicted, not turning, but suspecting Lelouch's expression and posture; torso sprawled over the desk as he tried, with his one good arm, to reach across to Suzaku, face, contorted into a pleading misery like someone begging to not be killed. However, Suzaku was not persuaded, instead continuing "I know I mean something to you. That's not in doubt. And you to me. We grew up together, always helped each other out. I'd lend you tyres, you'd have a talk with the stewards to get rid of a penalty I'd copped. There's no miscommunication on that. It's just that Rolo means more. And that's fine. That's something you're allowed to prioritise, and I wouldn't be respecting your agency or authority if I were to rock in here and tell you you can't love your brother. But I don't have to compromise my career, my future, for yours. I'm sorry."

Suzaku knew the sort of act Lelouch would put on, because in some sense it was not an act; it had been a reality of life. His parents, sponsors, suppliers, Lelouch had lived a life of frequent abandonment by anyone he depended on, and Suzaku knew Lelouch would be playing this angle up to keep him aboard. However, Suzaku would not be convinced.

Suzaku couldn't let Lelouch's attempts to try and make Suzaku feel guilty, feel to blame for whatever mental difficulties the Frenchman would be dealing with, his attempts to cause Suzaku to feel just awful for trying to leave, to guilt him into stopping, he could not let Lelouch's toxic attempts to keep him within his fold succeed, keeping him perpetually in this position where he could never succeed, could never reach his potential, simply abusing Suzaku's inner doormat tendencies.

Suzaku had signed up to be Lelouch's driver, not his emotional crutch, which could be leaned on whenever convenient, uncomplaining and willing to put up with the castration of his career for Lelouch's emotional benefit.

He had to grow a spine at some point.

And so, as Suzaku reached for the door and turned the handle, he was hardly surprised by a last, breathless attempt at emotional manipulation, even if it was perhaps unconscious, a survival instinct developed over all these years.

"You're all we have…"

"Well, you'll have me until Brazil. Enjoy me while I'm here."

* * *

Suzaku booked and climbed aboard his flight to Japan the same day, taking a taxi to the Bergamo Orio al Serio International Airport as soon as he walked out of the board room with Lelouch and organising his own flight while in the back seat on his phone. He had originally been flying with the entire Schwarzenritter crew on a single plane the next day, but Suzaku was just so disgusted that he had to get out of Italy as soon as he could, and get as far away from Lelouch as he could. The flight took off almost as soon as he arrived in the terminal, with Suzaku deliberately giving himself little time to sit about or stew over things before it had left Italian airspace.

He flew business class to Komatsu Airport through the night, moving headfirst against the march of the globes day/night cycle. By the time he was over Romania he had begun to order a wine, rationalising it as a sardonic celebration of the win he ought to have had had it not been for Lelouch's scheming, before saying sod it and by Russia he had moved to the spirits, only being kept there by their lack of stronger liquors.

However spirits were plenty to have thoroughly inebriated him by touchdown in Japan. Having packed light, he was at least sober enough to grab his travel bag and get a second taxi to his home between Hida and Nanto. He wasn't even able to gauge what time it was, simply having two more drinks and falling asleep on the couch.

He had no sense of how long he had been asleep when he finally came to, only that it was indescribably bright and that he had a migraine to rival Lelouch's. With some investigation, he discovered it was Tuesday, at around six in the morning. The flight had left Italy sometime around six in the evening on the Sunday, and while Suzaku had been in the air for eighteen hours, time differences had meant that the he had landed only six hours after he had taken off, touching down at two in the morning of the Monday in Japanese time. One hour to travel up to his house, another to drink himself into a good sleep rounded to, from having woken up at five a.m on the Italian Sunday, he had spent thirty three hours awake, with two of them driving at full tilt and fourteen of them consuming some sort of alcoholic beverage in a simmering rage.

However, with the Grand Prix in Japan constituting a double header with Italy, one the week after the other, Suzaku could not sit on his couch forever, particularly now that he had found the reason why he had been underperforming.

His anger hadn't faded; Lelouch, essentially an act of prolonged industrial sabotage, had strung up Suzaku to try and promote his brother, trying to damage Suzaku and his performance to puff up Rolo, with no regard to what damage it could do to Suzaku, both in his confidence and in his prestige. But then it was typical; Lelouch never cared who he trod on, to him it was a dog eat dog world and he simply didn't intend on being eaten. However, however he might try to justify it, it was sabotage of Suzaku's championship, with no regard for him, no regard for the best interests of the team, or the championship. He took the concept of doing anything to win to new extremes.

That being said, Suzaku acknowledged, none of this had been conceptually unknown to him. That Lelouch would use unconventional approaches, bend the rules, pay close attention to their exact letter, and succeed by any means necessary was well established. Suzaku had not been unaware of the lengths he would go to, and had even cheered him on at times, the underdog operating off of tupenny and skint hauling his way up with good lateral thinking, and a willingness to do what others wouldn't.

The longer Suzaku, now growing shaggy, thought upon this, the more he approached an uncomfortable conclusion. That Lelouch had these tricks in his utility box had not ever troubled Suzaku, at least not seriously. It had been the Robin Hood archetype, and Suzaku had been won over.

Suzaku was not cross that Lelouch would do that to someone. Suzaku was cross that Lelouch had done it to him.

It had to happen to him for Suzaku to have a sense of what it meant to experience, he solemnly acknowledged. That Suzaku had turned a blind eye to these behaviours and thusly had tantamount to endorsed them meant he was in no position to complain. It was, to borrow the joke, like someone who had voted for years for the Leopards Eating People's Faces Party complaining that they never expected the Leopards to eat their face, only other people's faces.

And so, having settled on bitterness as the emotion of choice, he stewed, having run out of drink, and by midday he had concluded that this big, open plan estate was a very lonely place to sit and stew alone, contemplating the fact that he, in reality, deserved this.

Feeling a degree of shame over having allowed himself to become so inebriated, having such little self-discipline, particularly in a situation that called for it particularly acutely. He had a cold shower, several cups of iced water, before throwing himself at his equipment. He would come to Japan a new man, mounting a new, and admittedly late challenge. It was almost certainly too late to make a run at the championship, but Suzaku would not let Lelouch ruin his year completely.

He was here, ninety points behind the lead, starting from zero, with six races to go. It may as well have been that his championship started here. It wasn't the most comfortable position to be in, but success would not arise from the continued denial of reality. He would just have to knuckle down.

However, while he was able to discover a new concentration, there remained the creeping sense of isolation. He was meant to be staying with the team in a hotel near Yokkaichi, but he was still impossibly disgusted with Lelouch, to the point that he couldn't bring himself to. It was a betrayal of trust, not just that Lelouch would treat someone's career with such flippancy to advance his own goals, but that he would do it to someone who had given him a home, helped him at every turn, been an unshakeable friend, had even ran from his podium to the man's hospital bed the day he had become champion.

However, he knew somewhere he could spend the night that wasn't here, the twenty eight acre estate with an occupant of a single lonely sod. And so, racking up another of what was a growing taxi tab, he got a ride to the train station, and a train into Tokyo.

Getting off the line at Ikebukuro sometime around six in the evening, he meandered through the dense, narrow streets for a while, with the country boy not quite familiar with the ins and outs of one of the densest cities in the world. He was left wandering for quite some time, uncertain as to how to even locate the address he'd scribbled down, however he did eventually find it, the third floor of a block of flats, surprisingly dirty and packed into a street perhaps wide enough for a moped. However, everyone had to find someplace to call home, and so, as he briefly looked down with a pause, he knocked on the door, with four repetitions.

* * *

 **Didn't enjoy writing this. Not a bit. But it's necessary for both of their arcs going forward Lelouch's is somewhat cut, as he has the bulk of his coming to terms with this in 2020, which this story will not contain. I might write 2020-29 someday, but that's over three times longer than 2017-19, and it will take A While. However, he does get plenty of bone to chew on in what I've planned for this story, and Suzaku gets practically an entire skeleton, as we'll soon discover. However, we need to check in on the hometown hero in the next chapter, so stay tuned.**

 **In the meantime, please leave your reviews and commentary, if you'd be so kind.**

 **~G1ll3s**


	60. OK60 - Koyū, Chie, Seishin

**OK Number 60 - Koyū, Chie, Seishin**

* * *

Kallen, by contrast, had a largely peaceful flight back to Japan. She had not been pleased with how Italy had gone, but she at least knew the team had done everything they could have done, and flew with them on the Monday morning, Italian time. Arriving at around half five in the evening Japanese time, Kallen decided that she might as well sleep in the airport to beat the jet lag while everyone else went to Suzuka to set up. She would not be needed until Thursday, and so could take some time to enjoy her home before she switched her attention back to the race, and so spent a lot of Tuesday going to a shrine to the south of Kyoto, before heading up to Tsukuba, where she had developed her skill and climbed up the bottom few rungs of the ladder as a youth, for a fan meet.

She was surprised by how many people had turned up to the fairly impromptu get-together, with Kallen having posted about it as an informal thing on social media only yesterday. It was a good time, with just over a hundred people turning up, most of whom wanting something signed, however they were mostly decent about it, sharing a good laugh and being infectiously positive.

However, by the time most of the attendants had cleared out and the sun was going down, Kallen quietly realised she needed to find someplace to rest up for Wednesday. Tsukuba was north of the Gaikan ring road around Tokyo, and three hundred and sixty kilometres away from the hotel the team were staying at, meaning that with the commuter belt traffic, she would be lucky to get there this side of midnight.

As she pulled out her phone to try and look up nearby hotels though, she received a notification.

 _Kōzuki Naoto has unblocked you._

She blinked, uncertain as to what to do with this, before Naoto's profile picture lit up with a symbol reading 'Typing' in kanji. She gave it a moment, before it finally came through.

 _You're up at Tsukuba aye?_

 _Yes?_

 _Are you still there?_

 _Yes?_

 _Come down to the flat. Don't rent hotel for room we already have._

Kallen blinked. Of course, she had been aware that she, or at least Naoto, had an apartment available in Shinjuku, which they had rented since Naoto was perhaps fifteen and Kallen was nine, however actually using it had not crossed her mind. Naoto had not been ambiguous, either in the phone call after Brazil or in the talking-to he had given her in Spain; he did not want her in their house.

This was the reason she hadn't asked; so that there would not be a similar rebuttal, as it had hurt enough hearing it twice. However, Naoto was no allowing her back? Perhaps pursuant to their talk in the hospital this made sense, but even so, when that had concluded Naoto had affirmed that they were not back on speaking terms yet. However, Kallen was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and hitched a ride with a fan down to Shinjuku sharpish. The lad was alright, though very excited to be having his idol in his car and prone to attempting to show off his skills, which Kallen very quickly shut down. That aside, he seemed fine enough, and as she thanked him as he dropped her off, he pointed towards Kallen's modified Hinomaru, with the five characters of her name, 紅月カレン, occupying the four corners. She nodded, wishing him well before he went on his way, with his destination being further south. Walking down from the outskirts of Saitama to the train station, Kallen picked up a ride from there to the Shinjuku station, arriving just before seven in the evening. It was a very short walk from the station to the block of flats, and from there it was simply a long flight of stairs up to the third floor.

She wasn't sure how she would be greeted, both by Naoto and the rest of the residents. She remembered last year, when she had left on the morning of the 2018 Japanese Grand Prix, on Pole, to every window filled with chanting and cheering, the entire building alive with excitement, that someone from the Tokyo inner city was in a title fight, and that they lived in the same building as them.

However, what with the recent controversies and Kallen having moved to a foreign, corporate team, she was not sure how her reception would prove as she rounded the last corner onto a hallway, containing six doors leading to six apartments, and saw the family in apartment 3-2 leaving in a big group for the night.

They and the Kōzukis had lived on the same hall for many years, and knew Kallen well, however if there would ever be a test of how the block would react to Kallens return, some eight months after her exile, this was it. A respectable, wholesome, decent family.

However, before Kallen could puff them up any more, the youngest daughter of the household Hatsue Miro spotted the redhead and immediately ran over. Only up to Kallens hips, the six year old still gave it her best attempt to tackle the nineteen year old, running into her fully upright. Kallen laughed as Hatsue wrapped her arms around the drivers thighs, as the youngster shouted "Mama, she's back! She's back! Where have you been Kallen? Mama said you were gone!"

Kallen looked up at the same time as the father Hidehito, who warmly smiled "Ah, Kallen! Welcome back, welcome back. We weren't expecting you!"

He paused, before whispering "Are you and Naoto…?"

She shrugged, before replying "I guess we'll see."

"Understandable." he shrugged. "I don't get it. The damn Frenchman had it coming, being so disrespectful. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

The word Hidehito had used had several translations, wherein perhaps the most charitable of these was 'damned' and it only grew more explicit from there. She briefly paused, before shaking her head. She mightn't have enjoyed her time with Euphemia and was only doing it out of contractual obligation, but if she was going to spend hours per week at her office, it might as well do some material good. And so, she might as well make a start at what Euphemia called praxis.

"No no no." Kallen replied, moving her raised palms from side to side. "No, he's been going through a lot of pain. I didn't like him, but he didn't deserve that. I've apologised to him."

Hatsue frowned, putting her index finger on her lip before asking innocently "What? Why'd you do that Kallen?"

"Well, little Hatsue…" Kallen smiled, as she knelt down to eye level with the girl, eager to nip in the bud what could be another Kallen. "Have you ever gotten in trouble? And from what I'm hearing you're beginning to take after me, so don't tell a porky."

Awkwardly, Hatsue leaned her head to the side and reluctantly admitted "A biiiiit…"

"Now, what does the teacher make you do?"

Hatsue, seeing where this was going, nodded, however once again it was reluctant, "Say sorry."

"Right." Kallen affirmed, raising her index finger to emphasise the point. "I was a pretty silly child, so I didn't get it at first, but there's a reason they do that. People don't deserve to get hurt like that, no matter how angry you are."

"I know but…. grraagh, sometimes I just wanna…!"

Kallen let out a proper belly laugh. Oh, they would have a proper tyke on their hands soon enough, However, shaking her head while still laughing, she replied "I know, I know. Trust me, I'm like a walking, talking anger problem. Tell you what, I'll give you something you can do, for me."

Hatsue's face immediately brightened up. Something she could do for her hero? The thoughts were immediately on her lips, as she cried "Oh, anything! You're so cool and awesome, just going zoom, zoom zoom zoom, neoowww! Ahaaha!"

"Next time someone's annoying you?" Kallen began, "And I know that happens, there's folks I'm sick to the back teeth of, but what I do, and what you should do next time, I heard this from my friend Euphemia, is that instead of saying 'You did this or that', you should try and begin 'I feel like'. Try and direct your thinking away from a direction of saying the other person is bad or accusing them. Do you know that- does she know that word? Accusing? Sorry, I might've-"

"I know accusing!" Hatsue smiled, feeling intelligent for knowing what a big word meant. "It's like… like in those right games!"

"Phoenix Wright?"

"Yeah!"

Smirking at Hatsue's enthusiasm, Kallen tried to seal the deal, asking "Will you do that for me? I want to see you up there racing with me in a few years, and you won't get there if you're always getting into trouble."

Hatsue nodded enthusiastically, as her parents laughed and tried to hustle her down the stairs, the child turned towards Kallen even as she was moved away, waving furiously back up at her. Kallen smiled slightly, knowing she would be telling the story of how she had met Kallen Kōzuki to all her mates the next school day.

However, as Kallen stood up, she heard someone clearing their throat behind her. She turned, to see Naoto standing in their doorway, with much of the left side of his face the colour and texture of an overcooked, rubbery lasagne and his one remaining eyebrow raised to levels Kallen had never before witnessed.

"What was that I just saw?"

Kallen shrugged, laughing. "Ah well, you know what they say. Those who can't learn, teach."

Shaking his head Naoto could only chuckle at that, before saying "Well don't spend all night standing out there like a melon, get in."

Naoto was still just a bit prickly; not 'come in', but 'get in'. Instruction, not invitation. However, as she took off her shoes, she heard Naoto lighten up and chuckle.

"Also… also, 'you will not get there if you are always getting into trouble'? What? You were never out of trouble as a youth, and you've made it this far, ehehehe..."

Kallen saw the funny side and shrugged "Do as I say and not as I do."

As Kallen wriggled her toes, freed from the leather brogues she had contained them in, Naoto, consciously pushing his luck, cheekily asked "So… can we see some sprogs in your future?"

Immediately, Naoto doubled over, clutching his crotch as Kallen withdrew her hand, shaped in a wing having jabbed him viciously, though ultimately in jest.

"Next time you ask that I'll be armed." Kallen warned, sliding her other hand across to a knife to underline the point. "They're fine in small doses, but spending all day looking after one? Miss me with that. Also, I'd have to give up racing, and that ain't happening."

"Aha, yeah, fair." Naoto breathlessly chuckled. "You've only got eyes for cars. You'd never part with your first love."

"Not if I can help it." she shook her head, rolling her eyes. She plopped her travel bag up by the couch, before frowning, and asking "So why'd you bring me down here?"

"Well…" Naoto began, before pausing to rub the back of his head uncertainly. "I don't like spending money unnecessarily. I remember vividly when those yen were in pretty scarce supply around this household, and I figured, what's the point of getting a room in a hotel in a country you've already got a house in? It's just a waste of money. So, I thought if you were up here, at least you'd be keeping a bit more cash floating around."

"Miser."

Now Naoto laughed more freely, positively chuckling uproariously as he wiped his eye and replied "I'll take that as a compliment after funding both of our junior careers and propelling us both as high as we're after getting."

He paused again, before adding "Didn't get you through F4 and F3 by being too open with the purse. Although you did a good job getting sponsors towards the end of F3, and by F2 you were pretty close to self-funded."

"Mm." Kallen mused, sceptically, before pointing to the open fridge. "If that's why you invited me, why do you have all of this tempura?"

Naoto shrugged off the comment about the mass of food, replying straightforwardly "Was cheaper to buy it in bulk, and it keeps for a long time."

"God, it feels like I'm talking to Lelouch."

It was a risqué comment given the history between Kallen and Lelouch, however Naoto, mentally set on a point he wanted to expedite, raised his finger to interrupt the flow of the conversation.

"But I will say…" he began. "You didn't see me when you were talking to Hatsue, and that was pretty impressive."

"Why thank you."

"As well… I've still been thinking about Hungary."

Kallen, uncertain quite where Naoto was going with this, straightened up a bit, cautious.

"I was… incredibly responsive to your actions in Brazil. I shut you out. I still… don't know if I was wrong to be, but that's besides the point. I gave you plenty of reason, when it came to it, to not intervene, to not go into the fire, to just move along, and not put yourself at risk. And look, you've explained to me why you did and I get it, never again means never again, but it's… it's meant I can still race, it means Tohdoh is still alive, it means a good few of my friends are still alive. When I needed you, you weren't hesitant for even a second. Your immediate response, your instinct, was to help. Whatever your ultimate decision was, the first thing your head went to was to help. It's your natural inclination I guess, but it's…"

He winced, before reluctantly continuing "…It's hard. I still… if you have that in you, if… the courage and selflessness to run in again and again to that garage on that day, to carry Tohdoh, to try and redirect Hatsue, how can you have that, and at the same time have the capacity to destroy Lelouch's life? How do those coexist?"

"I don't know."

Naoto blinked, not quite confused as much as he was curious, allowing Kallen to sigh and continue.

"I remember being at the Camelot interview, and they asked… some question like this, I don't quite remember, but I was brought back, to thinking about that day. I saw him, and I was standing over him, and… I was terrified. I was at once thinking 'I would not want to get on the wrong side of the monster who did this.', and realising it was me. I just… lost control, and I don't think I've gone a day since… maybe January without just despising that I, in some way or another, had the capacity to dole out unspeakable violence."

Kallen fell silent for a moment, looking down. Her hands were red, cracked and hardened, like dense wax, tough to distort but once it was distorted a bit, immediately shearing and splitting at the seams. They had been red before, red with blood. Perhaps it was some form of penalty, the guilty hands now deformed, fated to bleed like Lelouch had bled whenever they curled, or the skin around the knuckles stretched. No matter how hard she tried, she would never wash her hands of the blood fully, as it would spill over her hands again regardless of how thoroughly she cleaned.

Kallen did not believe in any cosmic design in spite of being nominally and culturally Shinto, however she could hardly view her hands, the instruments of her violence, being deformed and reduced to their current fragility, as much else.

Simply a confiscation of her weapons.

"But… with Euphemia I've put a lot the work into having the capacity not to. I can't put the genie back in the bottle, again, to say that I have a way to make what happened to Lelouch okay cheapens what he's gone through, but I was so horrified… if I can seal that away, not even go near that place ever again… I can be someone who deserves to be looked at the way Hatsue was looking at me. Admiration and so on. I don't deserve that right now, but with works, I can hope. It's not up to me though, all I can do is just keep at it."

Naoto, even with the prelude of the conversation in the hospital before they went to Belgium, seemed caught off guard by this, and looked away briefly, suppressing a burst of emotion.

"God… damn it, heh…" Naoto chuckled, as he tried to find the words in between his breathless breaths. "If you've got that in you… ach. Perhaps I'll be a bit more reticent to observe my natural instinct. I said a long time ago… ten years I think… that I'd look after you come thick or thin. I'll not be letting the side down at this late stage, especially when you have an attitude like that."

Kallen remembered, like she had in Hungary. Naoto had cried something tremendous, but he had had resolve, had had fire and steel in his soul and had kept a roof over their heads, kept the lights on, had dealt with Kallen's delinquency, and not failed to prepare a single meal.

Indeed, it was that resolve that had resulted in the situation with Tohdoh surprising her. With all his steel, all the resolute implacability he had unfailingly exhibited, the ease with which he had conformed to Rebellion's insistence on focusing on Tohdoh, swallowed his pride and done it, at least publicly, with a smile continued to surprise her.

And then it didn't.

While at first Kallen was staggered at how effectively it had broken his spirit, upon reflection she had to acknowledge the strength it had likely taken. Kallen certainly couldn't do it; to put her heart and soul into a race, coming out with the pace to have earned a solid position, and then to pull aside and let her teammate take it? That took a lot of self-assurance, and no small amount of big-picture thinking, something that was not in short supply within Naoto's fairly logical mind.

She could not bring herself to say that it was noble, or in the spirit of her attitude towards racing, but she supposed to could only be for Naoto that she had this freedom to fight at all. However, with the benefit of hindsight, if Naoto had fought and won, perhaps he would be on two championships already. But that was only with hindsight; it had been impossible to know that, with a reality check and a spot of courage, Naoto could, on his day, lead the team just as well as Tohdoh. He could never have known that, and unlike Kallen was not at liberty to risk his seat.

In this sense, Naoto had swerved not an inch from his most steadfast commitment; in a way quite like Lelouch, he would protect his family, except where Lelouch's 'by any means necessary' meant politicking and conniving his way to success, Naoto's tack revolved more around falling on his own sword.

Of course, Naoto had explained this before, on a fuzzy video call over two years ago, the night after the 2017 Monaco Grand Prix. But Kallen was far less mature, only seeing from her perspective, that of a child. She was in ignorance of the strength Naoto had had to exhibit for years, patiently waiting so that his reputation could grow and his seat, and Kallen's seat, could be firmly secured. In that capacity Kallen had been incredibly disrespectful, and while that had been quickly forgotten, she had unquestionably been flippant of the sacrifice he had made, wasting three years of his career as a number two in a sport where careers might only last ten to twelve years before the reflexes dulled.

He had done it without even thinking of himself, only thinking of what he could do for Kallen.

He had leapt right into the fire for her, and, beyond coming away with even the damage he had expected, which was the loss of perhaps half of his career, not blinking, not even hesitating. She laughed. And he had the audacity to ask her why she had been so unhesitant in Hungary?

Kallen quietly chuckled. Shaking her head, she could only just about speak up, having left the conversation hanging for almost a minute.

"Thank you… you fool. You utter fool. You have done… so much for- for a clot like me and… and I-"

Kallen's voice broke off, as Naoto looked down with a smile before replying quietly "Look at it this way. If being a fool were a criminal offence, I'd have been locked up long ago."

Kallen shook her head, resting her forehead on the dorsal side of her wrist as she began to cry. She couldn't see Naoto's face, but she imagined that it was wearing a shit-eating grin, having found the opportunity to turn Kallen's phrase back around on her. Everything, even his instinct, were superseded by his promise, which he had not broken even to this point. Just as Kallen had went into the fire for him, he would go into the fire for her.

"And it took this long for me to get it. God we're both fools."

"You can sing that one."

"I love you Naoto."

Kallen had whispered it amidst sobs, before Naoto smiled, close to tears himself, and leaned forward, before they shared an embrace, at first tender before they came together more emphatically, Naoto and Kallen each wrapping their arms around the other, though Kallen had to let her hands and wrists just miss to avoid discomfort. She felt Naoto's coarse, leathery left cheek, burned to char, bristle up against hers, as they both sobbed out their reconciliation.

"I think… you've cut yourself shaving Naoto." she joked through the tears, with her brother responding in kind, blubbering through the admittedly witty retort "I was just surprised when you dropped the kettle on yourself, you spilled all the hot tea all over your arms."

They chuckled through the heaving sobs, each one cheering the other up. It was a good thing too, as just at that moment came a heavy knock at the door.

They instantly parted, feeling for a moment guilt before remembering that siblings traditionally had emotional connections and that there was no significant embarrassment over being emotional with a sibling, especially in ones own house. However, there would be some embarrassment in answering the door in tears, and so Kallen, probably in the more presentable state, dabbed her eyes with a tissue and moved towards the door, not knowing who would be there. Aside from perhaps the people within the building itself, for whom it was something of a fun, jokey secret to have two national athletes in the same crummy old apartment block, Kallen could not think of who would know where they lived. Both of them had their pay routed to their bank via a P.O box, and very few people would have looked twice at their flat. Then again, it might a visit for another reason.

She shrugged, and pulled at the door. While the chain lock was still in place, the door had a few degrees of free rotation, and she pulled it as far as the bolt allowed, just to get a view of the person on the other side, before her eyes widened in surprise.

"Hey…"

Suzaku Kururugi stood at the door, diffident and emphatically looking as if he was somewhere he felt uncomfortable, which Kallen imagined made sense. Suzaku, had grown up in the French countryside after the age of three, as opposed to the Tokyo city streets as you could get. However, given the overarching mood and good spirit of the evening, which had seen emotions run a bit high and both Kallen and Naoto feeling a bit sensitive to positivity, Suzaku's unfamiliarity with the dense city and what were undeniably noisy and crowded streets were hardly sharp enough a bodkin to spike their emotional balloon.

Smiling weakly, just about able to set aside enough emotion from her well to set up a warm greeting, Kallen made him feel welcome, as Naoto had taught her to.

"Hey, Suzaku!" she exclaimed. "Do come in, I'll just get… these bolts…"

She had to close the door again, as, while the slides had been already taken out, there were four locked chains of varied lengths littering the inside of the door, leaving Suzaku standing out by the front as she tried to unhitch them one by one, before she was able to open the door fully.

"Ah, sorry about that!" she laughed awkwardly as the final restraining element fell away and the door was opened. "Anyway, come in, come in, just take off your shoes. Naoto, it's Suzaku!"

Given the lack of possibilities, Kallen suspected that Naoto had told Suzaku where they lived, given that the pair were quite close, which was confirmed when Naoto, far from being concerned, reached over from the kitchen to slap hands with Suzaku, before saying "Sit down inside, I think I have a few drinks in the fridge."

* * *

 **~G1ll3s**


	61. OK61 - Common People

**OK Number 61 - Common People**

* * *

He did indeed, and as the three of them sat around on a couch, Suzaku took the tab off a zero percent beer, not eager to repeat his undisciplined binge from earlier in the week, while Naoto took an alcoholic beer, and Kallen was going through her regular order of whiskey.

"I'm sorry for bothering ye."

Suzaku whispered it, however both of the Kōzuki siblings' ears perked up at the apology. Neither had perceived it as any significant imposition, and Naoto even joked as such in his reply.

"Here, it's no panic." he shrugged, before pointing to Kallen. "I even invited this reprobate up, I'm just in the mood to have guests, it's that kind of day."

He paused to allow Suzaku an opportunity to reply, or Kallen an opportunity to defend herself, however neither happened, and so Naoto continued "What brings you up to this neck of the woods? Normally you're based up near Nagano, or bunking with the team. Only reason I'm not is because I have a flat within a few hours of the track, and Kallen's only here because she can't organise for shit."

"Look, I didn't expect the fan meet to take that long." Kallen laughed, only taking superficial umbrage. "But what's up Suzaku? Is there anything we can help with or?"

Suzaku, face downcast, shook his head dispiritedly, simply saying "No, no. Was… was just awful lonely up in the house by myself, especially with..."

Kallen and Naoto didn't blink, even as Suzaku left the thread hanging for several seconds not wanting to push the matter, with Naoto simply softly mentioning "Needn't go anywhere you don't want to."

"Ach, it's just…" Suzaku began, running his fingers through his hair. "Couldn't go to the hotel. Too much… it's too much."

As Kallen and Naoto briefly matched eyes, mutually at elevated states of attentiveness, Suzaku, who couldn't see their sideward glances, tried to gather his thoughts and restart.

"So, Lelouch has been basically playing me to try and develop the car and boost his brothers stock, make them all think 'Wow, this rookie beat the reigning champion, let's sponsor him', essentially trying to cripple whatever chance I had this year, with getting Rolo the upgrades first, giving him the better strategies, Spa, Monza…"

"Yeah… he has a habit of doing that…"

The reply came from Kallen, as Suzaku continued to just shake his head.

"I mean… goddamn it… I can't even get mad at him. He's not nebulous, or even ambiguous. This is who he is, and how he goes racing. He definitely hit you in F3 on purpose, Naoto, he… might… have hit you in Brazil last year, Kallen, on purpose, in fact in light of recent events I suspect-"

Suzaku paused, as Naoto's gaze steeled slightly. Arguing over Lelouch's guilt or innocence in regards to Brazil of 2018 was a moot discussion given that the only person who could know for certain was Lelouch, who would almost certainly take the secret to his grave. Thusly, Suzaku let the point go, continuing "But anyway… yeah, I'm not sure why I believed he wouldn't do to me what he's done to everyone, but… ach goddamnit…"

He slammed his fist against his thigh in restrained rage, before becoming the third person in the apartment that night to start crying.

"I just… I busted a gut. I had a… bloody mental breakdown at Monaco, I slaved over the computers, for this prick. I don't mind working hard at it, but when the person you're trying to help with all that effort just undermines you… I spent… hundreds of hours, poring over crap for him, and he does this nonsense. It just feels… I couldn't have done anything. I was just…"

Suzaku paused to gather his breath, having exhausted his tank, spluttering and huffing at a barely audible volume, before his raw voice continued to patter through his verbal train of thought as he made sense of everything that had happened.

"I was… I am, I should say, in a situation where I… there is nothing I can do. There is no… input, there's no action I can take within this team to make it work. There's no… venture, no action, no endeavour, there is no positive action I can do to change this, other than just leaving. No matter what, no matter how fast I am, how much I try to work at improving my place in the team, it'll always just be… arggh, for nothing, for nothing! I'm a bloody idiot!"

The train had arrived at the station, and Suzaku, having reached the end of the line, could only be described as livid. Inhabiting the space between Lelouch's cold, harsh, rational plots for vengeance and Kallen's berserk rage, Suzaku's fingers curled firm, as if charged by electricity, and every muscle and twitch in his face indicating a deeply seated desire to let out his anger on some helpless piece of wooden furniture.

Kallen, fresh from being someone who would have very eagerly done all that and worse to said wooden furniture, didn't quite have a response. However Naoto, raising his palm, spoke slowly, and quietly, quickly earning Suzaku's attention.

"It hasn't been a waste."

Suzaku blinked, looking up with a mystified expression, before shaking "But I worked so hard…"

Naoto, with a face that just oozed understanding and sympathy, nodded, and replied "Very often… how hard you work isn't as big a factor. Obviously luck comes into it, but there's sometimes more concrete stuff. I've been able to get both of us out, spending most of what I earned at the time as a sales assistant getting onto the track, then getting whatever prize money I had together to get Kallen out on track. Very often, I was so busy between work and racing I'd not get any practice in at all, I'd rock up maybe ten minutes before qualifying to a track I'd never driven and have to leave before the podium to get back in time for my shift, but I still did it."

Suzaku nodded, answering a question Naoto hadn't asked in replying "You worked hard at your job."

Naoto shook his head, combining the motion with his hands, which swept across his torso with palms out towards Suzaku to stop him in his tracks. "Sometimes it's not about… how hard you work, but moreso who you know, who you have access to. I got lucky with pretty much a dice roll, and Kallen got lucky by being the sister of someone who won that dice roll. I remember everyone who I raced with, back to… carts, Ginettas, F4, and up. Most wanted to one day be up there, where the three of us are. Some make it, but there's a difference between saying anyone can make and saying everyone can. For every Naoto Kōzuki, there's maybe hundreds of people who worked just as hard, or harder. We just got the break."

"So you had natural talent?

Naoto rolled his eyes, before letting out a chuckle. "Pffft. You mustn't have raced with me for very long. You joined… 2016 was it? And I'm only just back after a two year break, I can see how you'd make that mistake. Mistaking me for talented, now that's a laugh."

"You're after humbling Kyoshiro Tohdoh." Suzaku pointed out. "At least, before… ach…"

"Nah… I'm more talking… there were folks down at carts who beat me easily. But everyone had to take time away to pay for it. Everyone had a day job, had to live on the edge financially for a good bit. It was just for fun, it had to be. There wasn't the ability to just go down and plug away at setup and practice… well at least not if you were going to school, _Kallen_."

Kallen rolled her eyes at Naoto's jab, only biting her tongue due to it coming from perhaps the only person qualified to comment on her school record. Giving her a brief sidewards glance, Naoto returned to his thesis.

"Anyway… success… it doesn't dole itself out fairly. Some people who should have a shot don't, some people who haven't done halfway to a decent junior career, Shinichiro Tamaki comes to mind, get up to the upper echelons without lifting a finger. There's a reason for that, and it isn't that they're secretly industrious."

Suzaku's eyes widened, as Kallen imagined what he must be thinking. That he had only gotten here because of money, that without it he would be nowhere, and he had not earned it. Kallen knew the flaw therein; certainly, without money, or access to connections, getting on the ladder was far more challenging, but it was only one of the obstacles. One would not be handed a world championship for simply rocking up with the most money, even if it was important at the lower levels; skill would be required.

Fortunately, Naoto knew this too, and once again, gesticulating slowly but intensely to try and clarify.

"It's less… having money, though that's a part of it. I mean, if you have money… it's hardly as if you woke up and found a million quid under your bed. Parents, whatever, but… people with more… money, do tend to have an easier time climbing up the ladder, but it's not just that they can pay for it, though that doesn't hurt. You don't earn money without building connections, business connections and so on. A network. And it's far easier to find a sponsor to help pay for your racing if you have a network. Means you don't need a job, don't need to waste time on things you don't want to do, you're paid to race, while advertising the people you're sponsored by. Having that… makes everything easier. You can spend the hours just plugging away at it, perfecting the lines, getting better, but only because you had that initial agency, that freedom that your connections gave you. In your case, it possibly also helped that your dad was the ambassador to France, could pay for your housing, food, and so on, all you had to do was find the money to race."

As Suzaku tried to digest this, Naoto tilted his head to try and reframe the issue, acknowledging his points could be taken as minimising Suzaku's ability, when this was not the intention.

"I'm not… diminishing how hard you work. I don't have a doubt anywhere in my mind you'd pull hundred-hour weeks on a regular basis. You have dedicated amounts of time into getting good that I can't even comprehend, and I don't want to diminish that. I'm just saying it doesn't have as big an effect as you think it does. You wouldn't have gotten scouted from F2 if you hadn't done well in F3, and you wouldn't have made it into into F3 if… wll, and so on. If you didn't have the sponsors and money and time to take you through the bottom few rungs, you won't get up to the top rung. It's not that you didn't work hard, it's just that there can be a lot of obstacles to a young racing driver that you mightn't have encountered due to circumstances. Sometimes the solution isn't just to work harder. But-"

Naoto hung onto that but, as Suzaku's head, having dipped considerably, shot back up. Kallen knew how hard reality checks could be, and also knew how hard it was to hear anything positive thereafter, as you sat stewing thinking over how bad you were. However, just as there was good in Kallen, Suzaku was far from an unskilled rich chancer.

"But…" Naoto repeated, "What makes you good, what makes you worth keeping as a driver, isn't that you work hard at it, that you're connected, or that your family has money. You've had a spectacular platform to build your career off of, no question, which, like it or not, has a big impact on whether you got to F1, but if all you had going for you was hard work and cash, if you'd stood on that platform and done nothing remarkable, then you'd just be around the level of Tamaki, or Glinda at best, and you're above that. You didn't get here solely and exclusively by the fruits of your own labour, quite a bit of it was your lucky position in life and with connections, but that does not mean you're talentless, or don't deserve what you've won."

Suzaku frowned, still in the mindset wherein all he had going for him was work ethic, bit, asking "What?"

"A… a skill, or an achievement… those can be the product of something other than plain old hard work, and still be something you've earned."

As Suzaku tried to make sense of this new framework, with it clearly being alien to him judging by how often he was blinking alone, Kallen moved forward, and spoke.

"Look… I fought you for the title all of last year, I know better than anyone the ins and outs of how you drive. You are buttery smooth on the controls. Just… gradual, progressive inputs, just progressively rolling on the throttle, on the steering lock. Never jerky, never sudden, you put next to no forces through your chassis. I lose so much momentum with big, sudden twitches and wrenches, which does work at some tracks, but you know how it goes at places like Monza or Spa. Your gentle rolls onto the pedals, smooth, minimal inputs on the wheel in smooth, decisive actions, and you're patient. You never break traction, which is both fast, and gentle on the tyres, and you're consistent to boot."

As Suzaku absorbed this, Naoto nodded before building on Kallen's praise.

"The upshot is that you don't need to hide behind working hard. You've got skill. You have earned your place here, and it's not by outworking everyone, you haven't blagged your way in or 'cheated' by having a bigger opportunity to work harder at it. You had a much better opportunity and a better platform, but you wouldn't be a world champion if you hadn't made the best of it. If all that was sustaining you was the extra hours, it would have been exposed by now, and it hasn't been."

Suzaku's eyes almost doubled his size, as the penny dropped in his head. Even with the far lighter relative complexion to the comparably brown skinned Kōzuki's, Suzaku still managed to allow what colour there was flush out of his face, paling three shades like someone had upped the contrast to full.

"Oh fo…"

As Suzaku shook his head, he dropped his face into his hands and screamed into his muffling arms. Once his breath had run short again, he wheezed another attempt.

"I… did all of that… bloody…"

After running short of breath again in his heaving breaths, he gave himself a moments, pause, before committing to completing the sentence come hell or high water.

"I put so much work into saving Rosenberg. I split my ribs, I poured everything I had, put every drip I had into it, and… it was for nothing! I wasted it, it was for nothing!"

The point rested for a moment, before Naoto, who had already taken on quite a bit more emotional labour tonight than he might have been expected to, simply raised his palm again.

"Suzaku." he calmly began. "You're in your fourth year. You've maybe lost a year, and 2019 isn't even over yet. I wasted three years from the prime of my career in hospital because Rebellion had faulty suspension. Trust me, with your talent, you haven't lost anything. If anything, think of it as a learning experience, something to take with you, and grow from. I learned more in my first year away from racing than I ever did in it in my three years before in it. And again, the championship hasn't even been settled yet."

Kallen watched their interaction fascinatedly, as Suzaku mulled over what he had heard.

"I can't…" he began, stuttering. "Do… do you mind if I… stay here tonight? This is all… it's all a bit much. I need a night, and I don't want to go back to the house by myself."

"Oh absolutely!" Naoto nodded enthusiastically, before Kallen affirmed "I'll sort out the bed, we have a fold out couch I can sleep on. Let us know if you need anything at all. Hopefully you can have a good rest."

Arranging this was surprisingly easy, with the bed already made and the couch unfolding in a single action. As Suzaku set up in Kallen's room, which had not been slept in in months, Kallen stretched out above the spot she would be sleeping, as Naoto walked into the room, tired after having brushed his teeth. With Suzaku drifting off to sleep, Kallen silent waved to Naoto to grab his attention, before sighing.

"Thank you." she simply said. "That was incredible, I've been dancing around that and you just… you're going to have to teach me how to do that, just cut across and set things straight."

Naoto chuckled, and replied "You've given me plenty of practice. Now you get some rest too."

* * *

Kallen woke to the sound of sizzling. She briefly panicked, rushing to throw herself out from the weight on top of her torso, frantically trying to put out the fire, feeling her wrists tear and flake as her skin was boiled. The sizzling, the crackling, it was-

 _BOOF_

Kallen felt a sudden bang against her face, blunt and sudden, that made her roar in sudden pain. The acute pain brought her very suddenly into the moment, as by reflex she shot back up to grasp her situation and the world exploded in light.

As her sight adjusted to accommodate the morning light, she took in details of the room. The blinding light was not fire, and neither was the sizzling; it was a bright morning day, with the beaming summer sun assaulting the walls, angled into Kallen's face, and the noise came from Suzaku, who stood across the room from her at the hob, standing in the front half of the open area which doubled as a kitchen and living room. Suzaku was doing a fry up, just now turning over the sausages as he prepared breakfast for the three of them.

She laughed, as she rubbed her arm against her nose, now aching from having fallen out of the bed in a panic. The pain, it emerged as she pulled them away from her face, was her hand wounds again having opened up as she had tried to claw away at the blanket to get away from the fire she imagined, her memories of fire and pain from Hungary being brought to the forefront of her minds eye by the sounds of the burning sausages.

However, as Kallen quietly realised her white duvet was now stained in blood and tried to hide it away for later cleaning, two became three, as Naoto opened the door in from his bedroom, quietly humming the theme tune of what Kallen suspected, though did not have the knowledge to confirm, was a children's animated television show.

However, Naoto moved past her, sitting down into the small circular dining table which was better described as a coffee table, he nodded and mentioned "Thank you so much again Suzaku, you're the guest you don't need to be doing this."

"Ah, well." Suzaku shrugged, as he attended to the eggs. "You've given me a lot to think about, it's been… nice, and almost liberating. I probably haven't fully… parsed through it yet. Least I can do is cook breakfast."

"Well it's definitely appreciated." Naoto nodded, before straightening himself and becoming more severe.

"I've just gotten a text."

Neither Suzaku or Kallen paid much note to it, until Naoto continued. "Tohdoh's awake, and speaking. He has asked to see the three of us."

This got their attention in a real hurry, as the prospect of coming face to face with a man they all had an emotional stake in, to see him reduced to as low a state as he was, and yet marvel at how he had not been reduced lower… it would surely be a fraught meeting.

"Do you know where he is?"

Naoto nodded to Suzaku, before answering his implied question. "He's in Kyoto University Hospital, that's not far from the route we'd be taking to Suzuka anyway. Let's have breakfast, we want to get out before the trains get busy."

* * *

 **All very emotionally intense. And it ain't stopping, because we're in Japan, everyone's a little on edge, and it isn't even Friday yet. And yet, life goes on, and now that the whole gang is in the same country as Tohdoh's acute ward, that's where they'll be headed. Be sure to leave a review if you can, they are really nice and fulfilling to read.**

 **~G1ll3s**


	62. OK62 - Crime Of Passion

**OK Number 61 - Crime Of Passion**

* * *

Kyoto was on the far side of the inward cut of Honshu's south facing shoreline, however the city rail took them straight to the central hub, where they changed from the city rail to the national train line. The three of them were very grave, with very few words being shared over the three hundred and fifty kilometre trip.

At Kyoto, the change over to the urban line saw them traverse the last few kilometres to the hospital, which they shuffled into quietly, with sensitive memories from all parties. Kallen remembered going to Mie University Hospital to see Naoto, Suzaku remembered going to the hospital in Brazil for Lelouch, and now, with Tohdoh having been instrumental to developing Naoto's confidence, they had completed the set.

No one dared to make light of this.

They were expected, and escorted up to the burn ward. Up the elevator, into the corridor on the left hand side towards the south end, back towards the rooms hosting individual patients. There was a sense of foreboding, like they were travelling in slow motion towards a car crash, with the wreck surely resting just beyond view, just past the nurses desk, hidden within the intensive care unit. It was like they were called into a rescue mission in haze and fog; they all knew that somewhere, at some point along their path there would be tragedy, but no matter how deep or how far they plunged, their distance only seemed to increase, drawing out the anticipation, the torture, until the fog began to clear; now all that remained, the last barrier obscuring their sight of the crashed wreck was the curtains surrounding Tohdoh's bed.

They stood at the edge of the curtain, as the nurse, dressed in full medical gear from mouth mask and disposable gloves to the cloth torso covering, with no skin exposed to avoid risk of infection, briefly poked her head in, quietly talking with the man inside, before she drew back out and turned to face the three drivers.

"You can talk, but please do not go in. We do not need further infection."

The three of them nodded, before waiting for Tohdoh to begin the conversation. They could not see him, which according to reports was a very good thing, what with most of his face being charred white, with the entire surface looking as if it were a peeled garlic, visibly pustulous.

Or at least, so they had been told, and neither Kallen or her stomach had any intention of finding out. Fortunately, her mind was taken away from contemplating his wounds as he began to speak, weakly but with authority.

"How are you all? Not hurt too badly I hope."

Kallen looked down very briefly at her hands, before Naoto stepped forward, eagerly trying to reassure his teammate.

"No, not at all."

"Don't lie, it's an ugly habit to get into." Tohdoh replied, not quite loud or harsh enough for a snap, but it was still insistent. "You were in the fire too. You wouldn't be human if you weren't hurt at all."

"Tohdoh, you've been hurt far worse than any of us."

Naoto surely meant well, however his pleading tones earned a groan from beyond the curtain.

"Ach… are you sure? The searing white rot down the length of my chest didn't tip me off. My nerves have been burned to a crisp, my blood vessels cannot even circulate painkillers for gods sake, the veins have been melted. I can't even move."

The reply was venomous. He would have roared if he had the strength, but his frustration had to instead be channelled from volume into a harsh, scathing tone. "But I… I will not… be humiliated. I will not compromise my dignity. That my injuries are more severe is not… do not treat me like a child to be coddled Naoto. Have more respect… please."

There was a pause to catch his breath, before he spoke again, even more softly after he had spoken inaudibly with the nurse.

"Please. I am feeling helpless enough without the three of you fellating me." he continued, calmer now, even if his volume remained level. "Besides, I am not in the cars. The three of you are. Your wellness will be far more relevant than mine."

They all nodded, with Naoto apologetically adding "Of course."

This seemed to placate the double world champion, before his voice turned stern again, simply ordering attention with a confident summoning; "Kallen."

She stood to attention at his authoritative tones, as he continued "Pass your hands through the curtain."

Kallen hesitated, if only for a moment. She had tried to hide her hands as much as possible over the last two races, mostly as a function of preventing the medical officials for noticing their fragile condition and restricting her from driving. However, even beyond this they were ugly things, the memory of not just Hungary, but Brazil. Her hands would always bathe in blood.

However, with Tohdoh as poorly as he was, she could hardly see fit to deny his request, and so removed her thin, lycra gloves, exposing her skin, the colour and texture of bacon, before passing them through, keeping one eye on Suzaku, for whom this was the first time he had seen them in detail. His eyebrows raised, but he was otherwise restrained in his surprise.

Now having a view of Kallen's burns, he sighed, before gathering his words, uncharacteristically sensitive.

"I do not think I am making an overstatement when I say that you are the reason I am alive. It is an Ainu saying, kanto orowa yaku saku no arankep shinep ka isam. Everything that comes from Heaven has a purpose. Kallen…"

If his neck's frontal joints had not been melted and charred, she could imagine him shaking his head, before he continued "Do not hide them. A blacksmiths hands grow rough with use, by putting them on the grindstone and forge. A carpenters skin grows harsh with continued labour. Take pride with your hands, flaunt them. You have used them to save my life, and very likely hold many of countrymen from great mourning. It is perhaps the most noble of wear."

Sensing her moment was over, she nodded, before realising he couldn't see her and then adding a "Thank you", backing away to allow the two others to be spoken to.

"Naoto." Tohdoh began, restoring his authoritative voice. "Doubtless this has been a very emotional time for you."

Naoto nodded, before confirming "It has, but if the team sees me like that, they will all be dispirited. I need… to keep it within, to keep them from compromising their own labour. They have done so much, so much work that any team worth its salt ought to be proud of. I cannot allow my needs to demotivate them, to halt their momentum. I can't be selfish."

Tohdoh let out a hum, while contemplating, however his response did come, as he whispered "Very noble. You are continuing to prove me right to have put you ahead in the team order. Just be sure that you deal with these, even if not necessarily with the team. A therapist, or so on. It is important that your mind is focused entirely."

Naoto nodded, before Tohdoh moved on to the final driver.

"Now. Suzaku. There is a reason I invited you."

All three abled drivers suddenly snapped up at the first mention of Suzaku, and moreover that it was for a reason beyond the sentimental.

"Kallens stint in 2017 was the first indicator to me of this, and Naoto cemented it. My belief that the team needed to back one driver from the outset was flawed. To maximise points, the team needs the two best drivers, rather than the best, and one who is willing to supplement them. Now, Suzaku, I believe you're experiencing a similar situation."

He frowned, as Naoto and Kallen shared a glance.

"After the Japanese Grand Prix, I will be announcing my retirement. I am a relic, in a sport that thrives on the new. That includes new modes of thinking, new energy, a youthful verve. As Naoto has said, the drivers have an outsized impact on a teams culture, particularly prominent ones."

After a pause, where Kallen began to realise what Tohdoh was saying "The culture in Rebellion needs to change. I'm to blame for it being how it had become by the time I left in 2017, and the debacle of 2018 hardly made things more straightforward. What they need right now are two world class drivers who can work together to bring the team forward, put their labours in and get more out together than they would do apart, a non-zero sum game."

Kallen understood, though did not quite agree with Tohdoh's turn. Tohdoh, for as long as he had turned a wheel, been focused like a laser on the World Drivers Championship, however he appeared to have transitioned towards an emphasis on the World Constructors Championship.

The approach to each of these would differ. For the Constructors, where the points garnered up by the two drivers of a team would be added together, you did need two good drivers to each extract the maximum from the car, and the order they finished in didn't matter. However, Tohdoh and indeed Rebellion had historically focused on the Drivers Title, which rewarded the driver with the single most points. To avoid cannibalising points, it was always preferable to arrange so one driver always finished in front of the other in the same order. If one team won ten races, with each driver winning five, and another team won perhaps six, but with only the lead driver winning, and the second driver surrendering position, then the second team would win the Drivers Championship, as it would be six wins to the leading driver for the second team against only five wins to each of the drivers in the first, and if they instead had some structure in place to ensure that one of their drivers took all, or at least most, of the wins, the Drivers Championship would be almost a given.

It was this thinking that had led to Naoto being designated to the second driver role, and indeed Kallen had been designated to it for a time as well. However, now that Tohdoh was out of the team, his tune was changed. Kallen's cynical side would describe this timing as 'convenient'.

"Suzaku, you're the world champion. I can't think of anywhere you belong more than at a team like Rebellion, working with Naoto so you can both score as many points as you can."

Suzaku, looking absolutely flabbergasted having been thoroughly caught off guard, fumbled, stuttering "When… would I start?"

"As I say, I am retiring, and Marrybel was only signed as a temporary replacement." Tohdoh replied. "I assume your contract has a buyout or break clause, you can start tomorrow if you work quickly on the paperwork."

Suzaku's eyes widened as he cottoned on to what Tohdoh was talking about, becoming the last person in the room to realise. He immediately took a few steps back, still moving past the previous night's revelations.

"I can't replace you… I can't… you're a hero to the whole team, I can't live up to that. I haven't earned it, I just… I mean, I had it easy all the way through. Naoto has had to claw and fight his way up by comparison, and he has still made it in spite of that. He… he has so much more natural talent than I do. He was just unlucky to have Rebellion backing you before he broke his legs. If he's even faster than you, a two time world champion, I don't have a chance. Rebellion deserves a faster driver than me."

Kallen was of multiple minds about this whole affair, conflicted with regards to the various moving parts. There was Suzaku's fresh revelations regarding much of what he had assumed about his own ability, both in what had been valuable and what had not been, which no doubt he was still toiling over. This was met by Kallen's respect and belief in his abilities as an influencing factor, and then on top of that was the fact that she wanted Suzaku nowhere near a competitive seat.

It was perhaps a bit cruel, but from a position of pure self-interest, Kallen's greatest threat, the one person she knew could beat her, had for eleven races languished in a team where the danger he presented to her campaign was nixed. She hated that some part of her lizard brain made these calculations, that some part of her was thinking about how to keep the bear asleep, how to keep Suzaku from reaching a seat where he could throw the championship wide open.

She invisibly shook her head. She was wishing misfortune on Suzaku, who she was good friends with, simply because he was a threat to her championship. Some part of her wanted his languishing to continue, some element wanted his misfortunate streak to be long and plentiful, wanted to see his skills kept well out of reach of a car that could get podiums or wins.

It was another vile spot she wanted to just smash, she felt her imagined claws scraping at her brain, that there was some area that was calculating, thinking purely in terms of maximising outcomes for herself, no matter who was hurt. She greatly admired Suzaku, felt she was his friend, and the fact that there was even a neuron, a flake of skin, some cruel remnant of blood in her hands, that seek to get in the way of that, to compromise it for personal gain, made Kallen feel like the most horrible person on the face of the Earth.

She reminded herself of someone. The comparison was not comfortable. However, Kallen's inner monologue was unheard by anyone else, and Naoto, who unlike Kallen was not a vile monster, stepped forward and put a hand on Suzaku's shoulder.

"Suzaku… we went through this yesterday. You are plenty fast." he reassured. "That you had a higher chance of your skills getting a platform doesn't diminish or erase those skills. You didn't accidentally slip and fall on the trophy."

Suzaku look conflicted for a few moments, still having remnants of loyalty to Lelouch, before he shook his head, and excitedly grinned, looking excited.

"Okay…" he nodded. "Okay, let's do this. Hang on, I just need to…"

Suzaku, quite emotional, moved back out to the hallway to clear his head, at which point Kallen, with a jerk of the neck, beckoned her brother into a quiet corner, before speaking insistently.

"Naoto, are you sure about this?" she asked, not quite pleading, but getting there. "Suzaku… I've said it… for so long, he's the one person I know can beat even me, even in my job interview he was the one I was focused on. Regardless of what he says about himself, he is a weapon when you put him behind the wheel of a car. You're at the head of a team for the first time in a career, this is your first chance to make a run at the title, and you're inviting the single most talented driver on the grid in to spoil what should be your party, your reward for having waited so long, for the opportunity to chase a championship. This is your moment you have waited years for, you might never get this chance again. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"It's what's best for the team." he simply affirmed, with a decisive huff. "That's all there is to the matter."

As he resolutely turned away, Kallen let out a silent sigh. Arthur Miller had said that an era can be said to end when its basic illusions are exhausted, and the myth, the final myth, had been broken.

Kallen had always followed in the wake of Naoto, and for her he had always been, at least of the drivers in her era, the one she admired most. Suzaku she knew was the fastest, but Naoto had been the one she looked up to, had always ran from her karting practice to watch, and idolise. She had always held him up, and she would continue to; he had given her anything, and anyone that noble, that selfless, was someone to emulate while out of the car.

But she realised now he would never win a championship.

Putting the team first, trying to help out a friend by getting him a seat, these were not marks of someone who would win a title. They were the hallmarks of a second driver, someone who would not have a single fang exposed on the track. Certainly, while out of the car, selfless kindliness were virtues, but while in a race, while in a fight for a championship, loyalty, camaraderie, niceties, kindness, these were vices.

You had to push for the position ahead. The sorts of psychopaths and adrenalin junkies who thrived in this sport did not have success find them by accident; selfishness, ruthlessness, cunning, an egotistical obsession with success was the only way it could be found in this sport. If you were the Christian motorist, not going for the gap, giving way to a driver who was theoretically faster, or for the good of the team, this sport would not reward such kindliness, seeing it as an exploitable weakness. To succeed, you had to be a bit mad.

And as the saying went, greatness and madness were neighbours.

Kallen quietly acknowledged that her hero, the person who had made all of this possible for her, might be too nice for his own good. Nothing would make her happier than to see him in Brazil, raising the trophy with tears in his eyes, having sealed the title. He had put in the work to deserve it, but to seal the drivers title, the ultimate symbol of a single drivers achievement, not that of a pair of drivers, or a team, but a single driver, you had to put yourself first, mercilessly play things to your own advantage, and inviting in the reigning world champion to your team, ruining what should be your greatest opportunity, Kallen could only wonder what Naoto's thinking was.

But, of course, she knew. He was to Rebellion what Gino was to Camelot; loyal, to such a fault that he would never fight for himself, only ever for the team. He would finish second, not push for the win. He would allow himself to be marginalised, he would wait his turn, and had paid for it; he had finished second in the championship in 2014, religiously sitting on Tohdoh's diffuser and not pushing to try and get ahead, just as Gino had for Cornelia. They never tried to push forward to get ahead, pushed to assert themselves in the team. They were obedient, patiently waiting their turn, passive, not chasing after success in the championship. You had to actively fight, and claw, and scrape for the ultimate prize, to get it at any and all costs.

You had to be clinically insane. Kallen was clinically insane. Suzaku had accomplished incredible feats of dedication and focus, single-minded in his psychotic pursuit of his dream. Tohdoh had made it his mission to shape Rebellion to what would deliver him what he wanted by the sheer force of his personality.

Naoto did not have this edge, this ability to put all else aside and simply race for yourself, greedily getting ahead. Naoto was not cut-throat. In racing, nice guys mightn't finish last, but they did finish second. You had to have a mean streak, a sense of looking after your own, to cement the prize, and Naoto was not that selfish or cruel, something that, in light of all the difficulties Kallen's cruelty had brought, she envied.

Kallen had ruined Lelouch's life, she had gone up and spat in Tohdoh's and Rebellion's face in her first season, and was five feet and seven inches of condensed spite and determination. Kallen did not like it, but she could not deny that she had a vicious mean streak, not just in her violence but in how her mind immediately leapt to considering how Suzaku finally getting some good news in his life could spell disaster for her. Loyalty, empathy, manners, waiting your turn, obedience… these emotions and impulses had to be killed if one was to win. After years of winning championships in karting, F4, F3, and F2, fighting her way up in the cut-throat junior categories, she knew she had killed any semblance of them within herself.

And god, did she miss them, as she reflected on the soulless creature she had become.

* * *

 **I'm sure none of this, reading back perhaps three months after writing this, is in any way a reflection of my mental health at the time. It's quite interesting reading back on it three months later and chuckling at how it reflected the way I thought about myself at the time. Thankfully, the whole 'working through stuff' element does go somewhere, this is a theme that is developed and one that Kallen will discuss with Euphemia, who makes the process of reflection on Kallen's part much easier to write, as I now have a character for Kallen to bounce things off of, rather than the entire development being contained within Kallen's own headspace.**

 **Of course, the in universe manifestation, the earning of that redemption in the real world, moving from "I've learned it was bad to do what I did" to "I've atoned", is a different thing. She put her life on the line at Hungary, and as Naoto pointed out, it wasn't a conscious thing, it was instinctive, it was reflective of Kallen's 'nature', if we might consider such a thing. By contrast, Kallen presently faces a sense of alienation, propensity to suppress emotion to process a lot of what has happened and come to some sort of terms with it. Watch this space.**

 **That's it for now. Please be sure to leave a review if you can, they're really invigorating to read through. By the time I put out the next chapter, I'll have started on E, so I'll take this occasion to say I hope ye are doing really well in your lives, ye are having a great decade so far, and wish ye well going forward.**

 **~G1ll3s**


	63. OK63 - No Rest For The Wicked

**OK Number 63 - No Rest For The Wicked**

* * *

The contract was signed later in the same day, though the environment was perhaps less opulent then a skyscraper office; with the short window of time between the Wednesday morning on which they had met Tohdoh and the Thursday morning that the scrutineering and shakedown would begin, they had to move fast. With a phone call made on the way from the hospital from Naoto to Taizo, they had to hurriedly meet in a fast food joint in Mie. After a few minutes of limp wristed negotiation, a contract was signed, providing for the payment to Schwarzenritter for the buy-out clause, which given the drivers eagerness to escape would be paid in half, with Suzaku personally footing the other twenty million pounds for the pleasure of escaping France as soon as he could and coming home.

The deal was verbally negotiated, before being signed on the only writable surface they had to hand; a paper towel¸ which they pulled out of the bathroom and signed their names into in pen. Kallen was sceptical, but apparently this was sufficient to form a legally binding contract. Given how much school Kallen had not attended, she felt that this matter was definitely best left to better qualified parties.

And so, when they arrived at the Suzuka International Circuit, Suzaku was a Rebellion driver. He had been positively childlike in his enthusiasm to an extent Kallen had never seen from Suzaku, even after he had won races. He looked so genuinely delighted, which conversely made Kallen feel even more awful for wanting to take that away from him, but his excitement was infectious, and they had barely arrived at the track before he leapt towards the bathroom to try his new overalls on, genuinely sprinting over to try it on. It wasn't even his; it was spare overalls intended for Naoto, even having Naoto's name and blood type sewn into the chest, with his new overalls not going to be prepared until the Friday. However, he just had to try it on.

And, much as Kallen's Id didn't like it, Suzaku looked damn good in purple and black. It probably didn't hurt that he was wearing an uncharacteristically beaming smile.

However, Marrybel was for the second time this year left holding the bag. Now down a driver, Lelouch was forced to cave and re-sign the Canuck just months after having dropped her to make way for Rolo. At least there was a uniform ready for her, as the decision to bring in Rolo had been one made at the eleventh hour, even within the context of an eleventh hour team designing an eleventh hour car with an eleventh hour financial package. She would retain her seat, which was just, as she hadn't really done anything wrong, beyond being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Certainly, her time spent at Rosenberg with Suzaku had shown which one of them was the better driver, with Suzaku claiming a championship while Marrybel was hard pressed to seal a race win, but this once again was not a criminal offence.

It came at a very fortunate time too, as any later and many of Suzaku's native supporters would have turned up on the Sunday wearing the wrong teams attire, however there was a chance now to get fully ready for what was a return to having two Japanese Rebellion drivers, and a World Champion in the team.

Indeed, Japanese motorsports was in an incredibly emotional state in general, with the urban, working class heroes of Kallen and Naoto now both in race winning seats, and Suzaku having done what was, in the public view, something of a 'heel-face turn', with even the most cynical Rebellion diehard, who viewed him as the out of touch elitist who had been raised in Europe and only Japanese by birth, now becoming fanatical supporters, as he had began what in their eyes was a redemption arc, taking his talent to a home grown team.

Of course, any discussion of the emotionally fragile state of motorsports culture of Honshu would be incomplete without a mention of what was the functional mourning of Tohdoh, who, beyond being critically injured, had announced he would not be returning to a race seat, and was retiring. Commentators had wished him a full recovery, and there was not one person who either disrespected his achievements nor failed to understand why he was stepping down. This was beyond Naoto's injuries, and tributes flooded in by the day. Tohdoh would never race his last Japanese Grand Prix, or at least not in the knowledge that it would be his last.

However, while this would cast a dark cloud over the weekend, most had already come to terms with it by Belgium, and the nation of Japan was in a positive frenzy, with it having reached fever pitch by Friday, in spite of there being another two days until the race.

There would have been less chaos and mad flurry if someone set the entire nation on fire; Kallen, Naoto, and Suzaku, all now in seriously competitive cars, all with a reasonable chance of winning. You could not meet a human being in the country who did not have a strong opinion on which of the three they were behind, which of the three's shirts they were wearing, which of the three's flags were hung out their bedroom window, fluttering in the wind. The upcoming Grand Prix, later into the year than it had traditionally been, had become the focal point of a national furore.

On the row of apartments either side of the one the Kōzukis lived in, there was not one window without a flag; Kallen's modified Hinomaru with the five Kanji forming Kō-Zu-Ki-Ka-Ren in the four corners, Naoto's purple and red number ten, Suzaku, who was represented by his name in rōmaji stylised in bold, or just the traditional Hinomaru. This trend continued all the way to Suzuka, where every house would have a flag at full mast, and every sweaty person on the trains or in the cars would be wearing replica overalls and caps. The traffic around Koucho and Misonocho was practically at a standstill, clogged with a mass of buses, almost all of which were filled to the brim with excited fans, draping scarves and slogans out of all open windows.

What was perhaps even more remarkable from Kallen's perspective was the view of the green area surrounding the circuit, an area of thirteen square kilometres to the south of Sumiyoshi; there was not a speck of green. The entire area of rolling hills, undeveloped, was now host to a vast, sprawling mess of tents and marquees and caravans, laid out over an entire countryside. Suzuka's frequently extreme noise from the race cars that frequented their had riddled the surrounding area with sound pollution had caused it to be deemed unsuitable for residential or office zoning, with the surrounding fields largely left to nature. However, what seemed visually to be every single one of the 126 million people living in Japan had, over the week, descended on the gentle fields like teens at a rock concert. What made this even more incredible was that the accommodation around Suzuka had not been traditionally lacking, however there was overflow as far as the eye could see.

This bustling excitement was not limited to the surrounding countryside, as six new grandstands had had to be constructed to accommodate the demand, and even then, towels and deckchairs littered the hills overlooking the track, and even then, people were just sitting on the grass, simply excited to be watching the three national icons face off. The excitement, the atmosphere, the air ran so rich, so dense with a palpable sense of anticipation, of ecstatic excitement, it could be sliced cleanly through with a dull spoon without so much as a hint of resistance, such was the cleavage of the thick musk polluting the air like a drug. Beyond the pits, the radius surrounding Suzuka had perhaps the highest human density and foot traffic in the State of Japan, second only to perhaps the heart of the Tokyo metropolitan area at Ikebukuro.

And this hype was not limited to the Shima peninsula in the Kansai region. Charles had orchestrated the transition of the broadcast of the race from the premium Fuji TV One to the main Fuji channel, as well as introducing it to Tokyo Broadcasting System Holdings and Nippon Television Network System. For the first time in over a decade, the race in Japan would be shown on free-to-air television, as opposed to a subscription service. The Friday practice sessions, where Suzaku drove the Rebellion car in anger for the first time, were viewed live by a quarter of the countries population, some thirty-one million people, with accessible Japanese commentary. Given that practice was normally inconsequential, the drivers could only speculate how these numbers would rise through the event, particularly as they entered the weekend, where less people would be working. It gave the race a weight, if the flood of people hadn't already done that; all one hundred and twenty six million sweaty, beady eyes were looking into the bowl, causing such perspiration and chaos.

In the nineteen-eighties, almost two decades before the Kallen was even born, there was a means of cooking operating off of a basic physical principle; the boiling point of water varied with pressure. This allowed water to be raised to well over a hundred degrees without boiling, and food to be cooked at such a temperature safely, or at least the vague, handwavey standard that delineated whether something was safe back in the nineteen-eighties.

All the Japanese drivers felt like they were inside a pressure cooker; the heat was far beyond what they would ordinarily be able to cope, far beyond that which would normally just melt people, evaporate them into vapour as they lost all ability to function. But all five drivers (whether the others liked it or not, Nagisa Chiba and Shinichiro Tamaki were Japanese) had been conditioned to operate at heightened pressures so thoroughly and for so long that it barely registered. They were the water in the pressure cooker; hot, hot enough to boil, evaporate away, but they didn't. They just put their heads down and went on cooking.

Well, driving, but Kallen wasn't strong with metaphors. Or would that be an analogy?

Eager to avoid that linguistic rabbit hole, Kallen promptly took this brief flash of self-awareness to move to Qualifying. It was damp, neither bucketing out of the heavens nor bone dry, with some drizzle, yet no decisive downpour. There was some uncertainty as to whether it was too dry to try the intermediate wet tyres, or too wet to attempt the dry ones. As it unfolded, the track grew wetter as the day unfolded, and, with the early damp track providing more grip, it dawned on the paddock that people had to have gone out for a lap at the earliest opportunity to get into Q2, as the lap times on could extract from the track were diminishing rapidly. Most of the top runners had made a run on dries quite early on, with one exception; Suzaku Kururugi, in his first race for Rebellion, had let his natural conservative streak get the better of him, and gone out on intermediate tyres rather than the slick dry tyres, constructed without grooves to clear standing water at the expense of a reduced surface area in contact with the road. By the time he had realised his mistake, the track had become too wet to go back to slicks, and he was out; P18 he would start in in his home race, having won it the year before.

Q2 picked up the intensity, and by Q3 the heavens had opened, with volumes of water worthy of floods and waterfalls and lakes and oceans being dropped on the circuit every minute. It was like a biblical scene from the days of Noah, the world seemed to just be growing submerged as the standing water and puddles became lakes, and the valley and rolling hills surrounding the track seemed the be the walls of the bowl in which the water would just fill up and swallow them, like all the animals and men and trees that were not gathered in the ark.

However, Kallen had fully dialled into the cambers and curves of the track, able to flick the car with an instinctive rhythm, and took Pole Position for the eighteenth time in her three season career. Even as the clouds let loose a trillion drops of rain the size of golfballs, the stands were still filled to almost overflow with crowds, with even more looking on from screens in their waterlogged tents, and their cheers, their celebration, their volume, their airhorns overpowered the roar of the engine as she waved them by on her way home, triumphant.

Of course, Kallen had been on Pole the previous year, and was keenly aware, given the disparity between her eighteen Poles and her twelve wins, that the job was only half done. The work was for Sunday, and Kallen was acutely aware her aggressive, hyperactive way of manhandling the car, while it had the highest ceiling, meant the concentration required to keep the level of performance at this ceiling was almost impossible compared to the relatively straightforward, yet limited ceilings of more race-oriented setups, which could run near full speed through most of the race without being mentally or physically taxing, or at least not to an unreasonable degree. These would generally have lower levels of downforce, lowering the speed you could take fast corners at, but allowing you to go faster on the straights, which was the primary focus in a race environment.

She would have it all to do to get her first home win.

She had had two tries at it, though the first instance had been her very first Grand Prix. Her second one had ended with a trip to the hospital after she ploughed into the back of Xingke, who was ironically now leading the championship. Combined with it being the site of Naoto's crash where he broke his legs, the Kōzukis historically had very poor luck at their home race. However, Kallen was in the form of her life, and Suzaku, in spite of a new lease on life and a disgracefully fast package in race trim, was down near the back of the pack, and nobody had climbed up to the lead from that far back since the 1983 United States Grand Prix West. Everyone else, Kallen could deal with, particularly if it was wet in the race.

Kallen had set her car up fully for qualifying trim, given that she planned to run the entire race at around a qualifying level of intensity. This meant ramping up the downforce, which killed straight line speed. Given that her closest competitors, Naoto, Gino, and perhaps Rolo, did not feel confident that they had the pace to outqualify Kallen regardless of how aggressive the set up the car, and so they had gone in the complete opposite direction, throwing away qualifying entirely to set up a good race car. This was part of the reason Kallen would have such a big task.

However, if it rained, the lowered high speed grip would disproportionally affect those who were running marginal levels of downforce and grip, as opposed to extreme ones, and Kallen would storm ahead.

Before she went to sleep, she considered doing a little rain dance to give the weather a bit of encouragement.

She decided against it.

Twenty minutes later, following unrest and discomfort, she relented and did a rain dance.

In truth, that didn't help either. Beyond the sheer noise coming from just beyond the circuit where the campsites were littered from what Kallen suspected was an impromptu concert or music gig, she doubted any driver would be able to sleep even in a soundproofed room.

There was just such a musk, such a palpable anticipation, as if they were all in a traffic jam, shuffling at stop-start pace towards an inevitable destination, just slow enough to feel irritated at the clock not moving faster, but just fast enough to keep one on edge, to give one glimmers of progress. You could never take your mind fully off it, as it was undeniably moving forward, undeniably approaching, but it was taking its sweet ass time, constantly frustrating in how it had perhaps moved centimetres in the last hour, or how it moved only ten minutes in the last one hundred.

It was the longest night, as the weight of an entire country sat on top of the mattress. Kallen had to have four showers through the night for how much sweat was gathering, and how dank the air ran.

By two in the morning, she gave up, left her trailer and tried to run laps of the track, just to try and tire herself enough for sleep. She had done three laps, just under eighteen kilometres, by the time she collapsed on a couch in the garage, and finally got some sleep.

She snorted awake to a bright light, a roof mounted cold batten of LED's, lighting the environment with a cold bright that stung her eyes. She shook her head, feeling wet and cold and sore in the head, as if afflicted by a hangover without even having had the pleasure of getting piss drunk.

As she took a cold shower to fully wake herself up, she heard that it was nearly twelve o'clock, with the race starting at two. Almost as soon as she became cognisant and aware of the context she found herself in, whatever anticipation had been constricting her chest the night before had tripled, suffocating her, as she felt her mind asphyxiate, waning in function with each drying cell.

But she would put these things aside. There was only the race, all else, all the rest of the world was gone. The seven thousand square feet the circuit was contained within was all that existed, one could well walk just beyond the property and fall into an eternal black void. These emotions, overwhelming, were instructed to fall away, as Kallen deliberately misapplied techniques from anger management. For the next three hundred and five kilometres, she would be nothing, she had to only focus on the road, only focus on the lines, only focus on securing track position. Layer by layer, she stripped away her flesh until all of her skin was like her hands; red, vile, and by necessity exposed. She just let the world wash over her. She would not be affected by it, the spirit of the place, the overwhelming, intense high-octane emotionality, which would normally cause sensory overload for even Kallen. Instead, she had to become like the bomber pilot, or the bus operator.

In 2009, research was underway into the mentality and common factors underlying every champion back to 1998. It reached the following conclusion;

"They have unbelievable concentration, they just do not get distracted. It's about personality types. In World War Two, they invented a test to find bomber pilots who could concentrate for long periods of time without what are known as 'involuntary rest pauses', or lapses of concentration to you and me. They found that there was a link between introvert and extrovert on that. The more introvert a personality you are, the longer you can concentrate. Many bus companies found that disproportionally many accidents happen with extrovert drivers at the wheel, so they now do personality tests and choose introverts."

Kallen may have been someone who enjoyed moments of isolation to gather her thoughts, but she picked up a lot of her energy from interactions with others. Whether it was from Naoto, Suzaku, or Euphemia, the ebb and flow of Kallen's energy and performance was linked with the attitudes of those around her. However, this source was not reliable, hinging on the help of others. She had to disentangle herself, become less dependent on the emotional aid of others to reach this state, a state where she could just exist as a tool, she could just exist as a cog, or a gear, or some other, another part in the machine, running automatically to try and get round the track as fast as possible.

She had to remove herself, wipe any remnant of Kallen Kōzuki, the five foot seven young upstart from the inner city of Tokyo, off the face of the planet. She had to wholly obliterate herself to rebuild a better one, reshaped and new. She ignored the context, ignored the national spotlight, and just emptied her mind. She was a blank canvas.

She was ready.

She shooed away any press who would approach, eager to secure and maintain this view. She looked up to the horizon, formed by rolling hills blocked at times by grandstands. There was nothing past that. There was only the next three hundred and five kilometres.

She felt entirely relaxed, her muscles loose and her chest almost limp, her limbs falling like a puppets. She would completely reshape herself, abandon anything she was or had ever been, let it all fall away like a weight, so that she would enter the car no heavier than air. She was not Kallen Kōzuki, icon of the urbane Japanese working class, or Kallen Kōzuki, fighting for the world championship, or Kallen Kōzuki, who was being watched by almost half the country. She was anyone else, driving in any other race, with no eyes, no championship, no politics, nothing.

As she slid the car into the grid slot, she was empty. There was no distraction. She was at the scope of a G4M1's bomb bay, surveying the ocean for the American battleships and aircraft carriers she was to deliver the bomb over, knowing if she took her eyes off the reticule for one moment the blink-and-you'll-miss-it chance to drop the payload would have been lost. She was the bus driver, tunnel visioned on the road ahead without a single blink, and a blink could take her eyes off the road for three tenths of a second, which was the difference between Pole and second place on this occasion.

As she waited for the rest of the grid to form up, she glanced up to the skies, and they were a little bit… too familiar. The clouds were foreboding, holding in their grey ambiguity the threat of rain. It look exactly like it had for her first Grand Prix two years previously, though it had been much earlier in the schedule then. Lelouch had made the decision to make the change to wets before the race began. Should she have done it now? Would she regret it?

No, this was no time for that. This was no time for emotions, or regrets, or anything other than the five lights and the first corner. In both of the two years she had driven this track, she had lifted through 130R, still remembering what had happened to Naoto, and making up for this time elsewhere as everyone else took the corner flat out. She just wasn't confident in her car after Naoto's suspension had failed.

She would not be lifting today. All fear, all nerves, all anxiety and worry had been stripped back leaving just a corpse behind the wheel, as she extracted the last shreds of herself with the slamming down of her visor, completely immersing herself in the commitment to the fight.

Kallen had disappeared.

There was only the red light. The second red light. The third, the fourth, the fifth, red, light.

And then there was nothing at all.

* * *

 **Suzaku in a Rebellion eh? We do love to see it, though Kallen, healthily concerned about the biggest threat to her title run getting a race-winning seat, might not be as removed a spectator to events as we are. She absolutely has a material interest in Suzaku's future, one that crops up in that little bit of your brain that considers the prize.**

 **But the prize of the championship is still a ways away; right now, there is the 2019 Japanese Grand Prix, at Suzuka Circuit, and it is time for the show.**

 **~G1ll3s**


	64. OK64 - By Any Means Necessary

**OK Number 64 - By Any Means Necessary**

* * *

Kallen grabbed the second gear to quell the disobedient tyres' rebellion as they squirmed in the cold like the most ruthless of dictators. However, the rubber fell into line, and she was punched forward, her torso sustaining several body blows with the sudden forces being applied longitudinally. She felt her neck sustain a vicious kick, however she ignored the pain and just moved past it, as she launched in towards turn one, head slightly dipped as she glared at the corner.

Naoto had picked up a good start as well, in fact even better than Kallen had, and had pulled up alongside Kallen, though his momentum faded relative to Kallens and neither could pull dramatically ahead of the other as they swept into the first corner.

But as the dual racing lines converged into a single dovetailed swoosh, like the trailing edge of a wing, Kallen became acutely aware that this two wide dance was quickly becoming untenable. However, Kallen knew who had lined up beside her; it was her brother Naoto, who would not risk his race at turn one, and would concede the position without a fight if there was a risk of losing his car. Kallen exploited this by not pulling out, knowing that he would at some point let her keep first when his nerves overrode his desire to take the lead.

And, surely enough, Kallen's calculation worked, and Naoto pulled out of the throttle on approach to the apex, likely not wanting to do what Suzaku had done the previous year. However, Naoto's hesitation had sealed Kallens lead into the swooping, flowing curves of three, four, five and six up to Dunlop. They rolled gently, never sharp, never harsh like a folded crease of paper or a dagger, but more of a scimitar, a natural ribbon draped into the gap between the small mounds, like a river flowing between them. Kallen could not quite attack these corners in her usual way, with the cambered, smooth ribbon of tarmac melted into the troughs of the rolling drumlins not fitting her angular point-and-squirt style. Instead, one had to let the car flow and roll through the curves to be fast, rather than forcing and harrying the corner through the car with dramatic skating and sliding.

Smoothness was the key to speed here. No wonder Suzaku had won two years in a row. It was a good job he was so far down the grid, or Kallen would have been utterly scuppered.

However, as the car bottomed out under the vertical forces of the rising Dunlop, Kallen now approached the half of the lap Kallen made back her time on. Through the first sector of flowing esses, Kallen would lose over three tenths to the smooth operators of Gino and Suzaku and the like, and sure enough, she looked briefly in her mirror and saw Naoto, more at home in this sector, having made up the time he had lost in the first corner and was now all over her back bumper. However, overtaking in the first sector was difficult, and she made her time back over the rest of the lap, where most of the overtaking happened, particularly into the hairpin and the Casio chicane after the heavy braking zones.

She wasn't faster everywhere, but she was faster where it mattered.

Into Degner One, there was little distinction in the blended dab of the brakes into the not-quite-flat kink, however into Degner Two, Kallen's rear biased brakes were able to do most of the rotation before the apex, sliding through the short radius corner already lined up to gas it before she had even reached the exit kerb. This early throttle application covered her into the second best spot on the track to overtake, into the turn ten hairpin, as the chasing pack were too far back to make a move into the braking zone.

Kallen let out a chesty breath as she buffeted a charge through the long curve up to Spoon. The corner dipped slightly and was taken blind, requiring complete faith that the corner would be where you remembered it, required complete understanding of how much to brake, that being just a slight tappeting before turn in, and just where; too early and you would bog down, too late and you would skate over the kerb and into the gravel trap. It required no fear, no hesitation, complete trust that the car would do what you told it to.

With any animal instincts to lift off the throttle destroyed, she dipped the brake while keeping the throttle welded to the floor, slowing without dropping revs, and physically felt the car be pulled by the force of the tyres, ripping and tearing to viciously tug the front end round with the subtlety of a doorman at a pub past midnight.

The lap took a brief break in the prolonged insanity with the just-over-a-kilometer back straight, the overpass of the figure of eight, first penned as a Honda test track in 1962 by Dutchman John Hugenholtz. 130R, flat, last chicane, hurl it in without a notion of self-preservation, and away to the line. Kallen preferred the tight, finicky nature of post-2002 Fuji or Okayama, but it was by no means a bad strip of tarmac, indeed it was quite a pleasant one to drive.

But Kallen was not driving for pleasure. She was driving to win the race.

However, Kallen could not fully immerse herself even in this, as the clouds loomed overhead. According to the forecasts, it was not a matter of if, but when. However, the question for when was still prescient, particularly given that, beyond the rolling of a dice, the only spot where one could test the grippiness of the surface and how wet it was through the first sector, with its high speed, front limited swoops, by which time they would have passed the pit entry and would have to an entire lap before the car could be hustled back to the pits in conditions the tyres could well be unsuited for.

As such, Kallen had to be attentive with the condition of the road, feeling how the resistance of the wheel would fall away as the lateral friction between the road and tyres as they slewed and strayed away, dragging the front end of the car with it, the surest sign of growing surface water, even if none could be seen. However, the feeling was ambiguous, with the clear, crystal definition of the tarmac, while less crystal in resolution, while was not quite as sharp in the feel in the wheel, was not yet unambiguously dulled.

As she approached the last chicane for the end of the next lap, she had a decision to make. If she did not pit now, she would have to wait an entire lap to get onto the intermediate tyres. The car wasn't wallowing like a boat, but if Kallen felt it wallowing into the first sector, it would be too late. How could she tell?

She briefly panicked, almost lifting out of the throttle through Casio from indecision, before she had a brainwave.

"Has Rolo pitted for wets yet?"

Kallen's logic went thusly; Lelouch had staked his claim to the Rebellion seat, secured his three career wins, and worked up to second in the championship on his strategic thinking and sixth sense for the weather. Whatever tyre he wanted to put his drivers on was the right tyre to be on.

The reason Kallen specified Rolo was, ironically, because of Suzaku. Suzaku had reported that while he was at the team, the optimum strategy would never go to him, as priority number one was helping Rolo. If Rolo was doing something, then it was in Lelouch's eyes the best thing to do.

"He's been told to pit, but it's not looking like the conditions-"

Kallen nodded along to the first part, before interrupting "Then we're coming in too."

She immediately jerked the wheel to the right, peeling off the racing line and onto the slip road. Only Schwarzenritter's pit crew were out, waiting to serve Rolo, with the Camelot team just assembling in the nick of time to swap out Kallen's tyres, only perhaps seven or eight laps young at this point in the race.

In, stop, raise jacks, whirr of drills, second whirr of drills, lower jacks, and away. Gone in one point eight seconds. It was the moment of truth; was her gamble prescient?

As she dipped her toe into the tarmac lake uncharacteristically gingerly, Kallen's conclusion as she rounded the first corner was hazy, much like the track texture itself. It was much easier to infuse the carcass of the rubber with heat, as the energy tore through the tyre, searing through them like roots. However, in spite of the readiness with which they warmed, there was still not the definition of the tyres just left, the clarity and certainty of purchase. It was the difference between watching a video in a 4k frame against a 360 pixel frame, there was not the crystal, biting edge, there was a slight vagueness, a slight uncertainty that made the correlations between her movements of the wheel and the angle of the cars turn going from correct to the micrometer to perhaps correct to the inch, or correct to the nearest couple of inches.

As the car swayed and wallowed through the first sector, Kallen sank beneath the water that wasn't there, or at last her heart did. She could not be sure, but this undercut would not gain her time on the wet track while everyone stayed on dries, it would lose her time on a dry track while she was out on wets. It wasn't as stark as going out for a run in flip flops, as the air was dense with moisture, the tarmac was cold, and indeed, there was a slight spitting, almost unfelt. These tyres were not to this track surface, on the verge of being wet as if anticipating it, what a fish might be to a jungle, but it was certainly not what it might be to the ocean. It was perhaps a shallow pond, or an ill attended tank in the dentists office; vaguely uncomfortable, precarious.

"I think-" Kallen began, before having to stop to focus her attention before regathering her composure, "I think this is the wrong tyre, we went too early."

"Do you want to come back in?" came the concerned voice from the other end of the channel.

Kallen waved her arm in front of her face. Much and all as she had heard of the sunk cost fallacy, she still bought into it. If she went back into the pits and spent twenty seconds getting onto the faster tyres, she would not only be throwing that time down the drain, but given the inevitability of rain, another twenty seconds would be spent putting the wets back on.

Besides, no amount of slow driving until the track was wet enough could cost her forty seconds, not unless it didn't rain for ten or fifteen laps.

Shaking her head, she shouted back into the radio "No, no. It's going to get wet, if I come back in for dries I'll just have to come in a third time to put the wets back on. Just going to have to tough it out, gah."

She shook her head. Lelouch had messed up, which certainly brought some schadenfreude, but she had been the lemming that had joined him. His gambling had bit both of them Kallen acknowledged, as she almost felt the time she was bleeding away on the wrong tyres, having to brake just that bit earlier. It would only lose perhaps a tenth on early braking and another tenth on unsteady acceleration per corner, but with eighteen corners over the course of a lap, three point two seconds were going down the drain every lap.

Rain did, mercifully, come and arrest the flow of these losses, but only after four more laps of ambiguous surface liquidity, by which time she had lost twelve seconds to what was functionally depreciation. As she came out of the final Casio chicane, she watched who was coming out of the pits and she would be racing into the first corner.

They were not the sorts of cars she had planned on racing today.

An Ashford, two Vanwalls, and a Geely. Not as bad as Softrolas or a Densō, which were firmly at the back of the grid as opposed to the upper midfield formed by the Vanwall/B.A.R/Geely bloc, though to see an Ashford this high up would to the engaged observer represent a wholesome bit of positivity, that this privateer operation was doing this well. However, Kallen was not an engaged observer. She was a scalpel, only seeing something to cut, something to chase. A target.

With the tyre difference now neutralised, with everyone now on Intermediates, Kallen's pace deficit was not longer an obstruction to pulling back the gap, clawing back what she had lost, and so she set to work.

She was helped by the fact that her tyres were already warm. The tyres would take a lap or so to get up to a pliable temperature, below which they would not flex to disperse the longitudinal inertia or provide the grip. While she had fallen a ways back, she saw her opportunity to make like a poacher in duck hunting season through this pack, particularly given how much they slowed into turn three, simply not confident in the tyres and the conditions. Kallen by contrast had spent several laps kneading the tyres and had the feel of the suspension and its response to the texture of the track over the road hooked up to her spine, and was perfectly willing to yeet the car where one would not ordinarily yeet cars.

In this case, it was the exit of turn three and into turn four, where Kallen was able to go around the outside, take the longer line and keep the pace, even in spite of needing to turn at a higher speed for the same amount of rotation as if she had been able to clip the apex. There was just that much overspeed.

She picked off the Ashford out of Dunlop, and, having learned from last year about the dangers of making moves into Degner One, decided to use a different tactic. She knew that whoever was ahead knew what happened last year. They would likely be scared out of their minds that they might end up like Xingke had, that Kallen, who was hardly unknown for her audacious attempts to pass, would make a second attempt and end both of their races in a simply hideous accident.

Kallen was going to use this fear, take advantage of it, to get ahead.

She allowed the car to drift to the right, to the outermost edge of Dunlop corner, which formed the inside to the first Degner. This put the car ahead, the Vanwall of Dorothea Ernst, in a quandry; did she avoid the crash, which to Dorothea looked to be inevitable based on what she knew about Kallen and her level of commitment, by simply lifting out and conceding the position before they reached the corner, or the more likely alternative of diving to the inside and defending it for all she was worth, as for all the supposedly 'single lane, one wide only' corners Kallen had made two wide with her bizarre approach to hustling the car up the road, Degner One was unambiguously, uncontestably one car wide, no more. If Dorothea entered at the shallowest approach she could, protecting the apex like her own child from a swooping attack, then Kallen could not pass into Degner One. And, indeed, given that this was the route she chose, sticking to the exit kerb of seven which would turn from the outside exit to the inside entry as the track just went over the crest as close as she dared, Kallen could not pass into Degner One.

But Kallen wasn't interested in passing into Degner One.

Her ploy had been to make Dorothea take this compromised line into Degner One, which ordinarily required just a little dab of the brakes if taken with the full sweep from the far kerb, to the apex, and then to the far exit kerb. To take the shallow line, trying to do the entire job of rotating the car after reaching the apex, would require quite a bit of braking, certainly far more than if Dorothea had been taking the optimal line, if she had not been defending from what she perceived was a race-ending threat.

Kallen meanwhile had suddenly moved wide, placing her car on the outside kerb in a quick twitch which gave her a much faster line through the corner, or rather she was able to get back onto the power much earlier. This early acceleration allowed Kallen to draw level with Dorothea after the exit of the corner and make a diving move into the second, tighter Degner, which left more room for two wide moves such as this one, with the only reason it was not usually the site of many overtakes being the one line corner preceding it funnelling cars into a single file order with the single line, and single apex speed. By forcing Dorothea into compromising her own exit, Kallen had manipulated the situation into one where even with the short straight between the two kinks, the speed difference between the two women was enough to dive to the inside, and out of Degner Two, Kallen had seized the position, which proved to be fifth.

With the crowd who had just left the pit lane dealt with, she could now give chase to folks such as Naoto who had not been hoodwinked into the earlier stop, as she charged deeper into a heart of immeasurable darkness in pursuit of her first win at her home event, plunged into the deep clouds, the deep rain, the deep fog.

The rest of these positions came more slowly as the lap counter ticked over to eleven. Gino in fourth gave up the position without fuss on lap twelve, and Xingke, who had demonstrated his keen understandings of weather patterns to vault himself up the field by pitting at exactly the right time, was next, though the Geely had never been the same since the tyres changed their construction before Britain, and made for easy pickings as Xingke had no answer to the speed Kallen could carry through corners, particularly over the second half of the lap.

Next along was Rolo, who was driving a fully tricked out Schwarzenritter, with Lloyd's vision finally realised with a raft of new upgrades and updates. Lelouch had likely been a bit uncertain about whether he could keep Suzaku on side, and so planned to update both of the cars at Suzaku's home race. Suzaku had run out of patience before he could enjoy them, but Rolo was enjoying Asplunds handiwork, with a new barge board and suspension layout more intricate and complex than the International Space Station.

This made him a beast through Spoon, with his planted rear end allowing him to just throw the car into the corner with no fear, even as the car straddled the sausage kerbing on the outside. Suzaku's influence had made the car very user friendly and drivable, even for Rolo, a rookie, which meant even Rolo was able to wheel the car around by the scruff of its neck, though perhaps lacking the deft touch his erstwhile teammate.

This manifested in a slight squirm, a mild squirrelling as he applied the throttle. It was moderated by the beastly suspension and differential, which just ate the wheelspin in one gulp, but it was enough.

Kallen smelt blood.

She springboarded off of Spoon as if she had a Saturn V rocket strapped to her diffuser, physically feeling the longitudinal acceleration. As Rolo had bogged down, getting third was all wrapped up before 130R.

The next car along, Albert Darlton in the B.A.R, was dispatched with soon after, though his presence this high up would, if Kallen was presently inclined in any such direction, have elicited questions such as 'What on Earth's he doing up here?' However, even if Kallen were inclined in such a direction, the question would not have lasted for very long, as he was dealt with on the exit of the chicane.

Now it was Kōzuki against Kōzuki, in a head to head fight in relatively even cars, as back in Britain there were mitigating issues and Canada had been inconclusive, with neither driver at the peaks of their form back at Montreal. However, now they were both at their respective apices, in front running cars, and it would be a no holds barred race.

And it was not one Kallen intended on losing, especially at their home race. But she knew Naoto, knew what good a light under him could do, and she knew she would have to get inventive in how she could get ahead, and make the move stick.

It took her a few laps to catch up to Naoto and work out where her move would be, over which time she grew to appreciate one aspect of the improved car, at least post-Italy; the tyre wear.

Kallen had grown bored and irritated by the cries to conserve tyres, to the point that with an unupgraded 2019 chassis she had tried the four stop in Britain out of sheer annoyance. Kallen was irrepressible, and did it anyway, though she needed to pit very often due to the lack of temperature controls on the wings and aerofoils. While she had dealt with it then, she had had to lose a lot of time in the pits. However, the new upgrades had greatly improved the cooling of the rubber and hence the wear rates. Only now, as she was catching up to her brother and realised that once upon a time her surge back to second would have been all that her tyres were good for, and she'd have to pit frustratingly early, before she'd caught the last fish.

However, Camelot had given her the tyre life to match how hard she was pushing, and she was pushing, pushing, pushing, playing with the throttle up to the limit of rear grip out of almost every throttle. Beyond simply balancing on a tightrope, Kallen was actively leaping up and down off the end of the tightrope, relying on her skill and response time to land back on the narrow thread every time. It was fast, but if Kallen took her attention away for even a moment it would be deadly, hence the necessity of falling into this hyperconcentrated stupor.

But beyond inducing more than a little solipsism, a sense that the entire world consisted of only Kallen and that all context, all other thoughts beyond how to get around the track a bit faster had already fallen out of relevance. The only other beings inhabiting Kallen's own little world were the car ahead and the car behind, and much to Kallen's joy, the car behind was getting smaller, and the car behind was getting bigger. That the car was Naoto was incidental, beyond the context provided by what Kallen knew to be Naoto's weakness.

Because he was, all around, a very good driver; very good head on his shoulders, a measured driver somewhere between Xingke's rapidly oscillating application and Suzaku's smooth, progressive application in how he approached the controls. Very well rounded and very adaptable, not excelling anywhere, but with no obvious weaknesses.

However, Kallen had found one.

She caught up with him after three laps of chasing, just out of Spoon again. He had been very good defensively, always knowing exactly where to position his car and having an excellent proprioception with regards to where he was in relation to Kallen. However, as they both flew up to 130R, something happened that Kallen hadn't expected, although if she had any capacity for hindsight should have been obvious; Naoto lifted out of the throttle into 130R, rather dramatically; Kallen had to swerve a bit out of the way, for fear she would run into the back of him.

Naoto was scared of 130R.

Kallen could hardly blame him. Through no fault of his own his career had nearly been ended there two years earlier, which doubtless hardly encouraged one to tackle the corner aggressively. Besides, he made up for the lost time through the rest of the lap, especially in the first sector. However, while Kallen knew of it, she could exploit where he was scared, prey on his weakness.

She followed him closely through to the end of the lap, and most of the next one. She just sat behind him, through Dunlop, Degner One, Degner Two, the hairpin, before taking a wide arc through Spoon to set up her overtake, getting a much better run onto the back straight.

Naoto had a weakness, and Kallen would take advantage of it.

She had bluffed an overtake through Degner One with Dorothea. As she pulled alongside Naoto, the pair hurtling towards the fearsome 130R, she was not bluffing.

She placed her car on the outside, in the wet conditions, as the corner approached. Naoto now had the inside line as they moved two wide down to the just-barely flat out corner at two hundred miles per hour. Naoto knew that any contact between the two cars would have resulted in an accident that at least one of them may well not have escaped unhurt, and this was underlined by Naoto's gripping fears, which Kallen would exploit for the second time in this race, after already having bullied him out of an overtake attempt into turn one by not giving room.

Naoto had a choice; lift out of the corner, or crash at the corner that had almost cost him his legs.

Kallen did not lift.

Naoto did.

He had waited so long to get back in the car, he did not want to throw it away again. He had something to fear, something to protect, extenuating emotional influences that compromised his willingness to carry speed, to take risks, to keep his nose in the gap paying no attention to the possibilities of what could go wrong.

And worrying about what could go wrong had not ever won anyone a race, or the championship. Naoto, in lifting off, gave his sister a monopoly on the dominant line through the corner, and she was past.

While getting ahead of her brother would not win her the championship, it had put Kallen into the lead of the Grand Prix, however it was only just over halfway to the end. As the race went along, the rain picked up gradually, and by lap twenty-eight of fifty-two, it was time for the full wet tyres to deal with what had become a monsoon.

In, twenty seconds, and now with wet tyres, she could attack the track, and given they were fresh wets, she would be fine to the end with the brand-new rubber so long as the rain didn't lighten off again.

However, with the new tyres which could disperse far more water, Kallen became very comfortable very quickly and fell into a groove, silently and uncharacteristically wishing for a smooth and easy run to the finish. Just an easy ride to the end, just once. Kallen enjoyed the fight, but the win at the Japanese Grand Prix had been so elusive, had slipped through her grasp twice, and would be such an incredible sensation, she didn't care. The universe, just this once, could give Kallen a break.

But that wouldn't be what happened, no chance in hell. It would not be that easy, no way.

* * *

 **A lot going on. Naoto's anxiety surrounding The Corner, Kallen driving an absolute storm of a race, and then, on top of that, a foreboding end. Something is about to go wrong, and Kallen is going to have to dig deep into her soul to fight the hardest battle of her life so far. Look forward to that, and in the meantime please do leave a review if you'd be so kind.**

 **Also, I GOT THE E**

 **~G1ll3s**


	65. OK65 - The Dark Night Of The Soul

**OK Number 65 - The Dark Night Of The Soul**

* * *

As Kallen flicked the wheel through the Casio chicane on lap thirty, now having led confidently for several laps in the thick rain and thick thick fog, she felt a sudden tear through her forearm, and the wheel almost seemed to jam up. Kallen tried again to crank the wheel to the left, finding it incredibly difficult to turn without heavy use of her arm and shoulder muscles to almost prop up the turn, her biceps, triceps and deltoids all having to commit every newton of force at their disposal to rotate it.

She tried to shimmy the wheel to loosen it, but all that happened was her momentum bogged down, as whether Kallen tried to turn it left hand down or right hand down, it felt stuck, like she was trying to pull her arms through wet cement. The wheels would turn, but each twist required a superhuman effort, and with fourteen laps remaining, there would be two hundred and fifty-two more corners until the end of the race.

Two hundred and fifty-two times she would have to drag the car through the lap with her teeth.

She was at least able to get round the first corner, managing to rotate the car down through the end of the Casio triangle after two or three attempts at sawing away at the wheel, which about as much give as trying to push a brick wall. There was only one possibility.

She had just lost power steering.

Kallen didn't panic, the numb daze she had forced herself into didn't allow her to, but whatever lizard brain was still working away recognised that her job of reaching the end had become much harder. Not impossible, but much, much harder.

She immediately floored the throttle and allowed the car to build up speed in its natural direction, even if that took her off the track and into the grass. As she skidded across the mud and picked up speed, the steering became lighter, and she regained more control authority. Kallen knew from F4 that cars without power assisted steering were at their hardest physically at low speeds, to the point that they could hardly be turned. Once the car was rolling and had picked up speed, the coefficient of static friction fell, and the wheel became lighter. Kallen sped the car up to make the steering manageable enough to escape the corner, rejoin the track, and pull away.

Kallen had a plan. She couldn't radio in that she her power steering had failed, or else she would receive the black and orange 'meatball' flag, forcing her to retire for being a potential danger on track. She had to work around this on her own, she would need to find a way to drive this car to the finish and win within herself, without help.

She had a few ideas. If she kept more momentum through the corners, trying to take wider lines to keep her speed high enough to turn the wheel, rolling through the sweeping bends rather than accelerating through them to avoid overwhelming the tyres with the increased speeds and longer lines, she could just about make it to the end¸ even if it would tax all the muscles in her arms.

She needed to be everything she wasn't; smooth, putting as little force through the tyres as she could, take wide lines, no rapid changes in the wheel angle, just smooth progressive shifts in lock to conserve precious momentum.

But this was not the first time she had to completely transform who she was.

With the slow exit out of the final chicane, she had taken almost five seconds to grasp the situation and build up speed to accelerate out of the corner. In her mirror as she accelerated along the main straight, she saw a car, and her heart sank.

It was perhaps the worst possible situation; it was not the number ten Rebellion of Naoto Kōzuki. It was the number seven Rebellion of Suzaku Kururugi, who had somehow worked his way up from the back of the grid to second. It was the number seven Rebellion of Suzaku Kururugi, who had won this race for two years running.

The battle was joined. Kallen had to weather the storm, had to defend her lead against the most consistent driver on the grid, the reigning champion, in the wet, on a track where he was in his element, with a broken car that she would have to nurse to the finish.

Because unlike Naoto, Suzaku didn't have a chink in his armour. He didn't have a "130R" like Naoto that Kallen could lever against him. His only vices had been off-track, on track he never put a foot wrong, and had climbed up to second because of it. He would not falter, just simply advance, inevitable as the tide. Kallen knew this would be the hardest thing she had ever done in a car, to keep him behind for fourteen laps.

The first sector was the hardest. Her forearms were now bearing the full weight and force required to keep the wheels turned just so, which was causing problems even by turn one of the two hundred and fifty-two she would have to struggle through. First, with her having to commit so much force into cranking the wheel, she was much less precise, with her wheel wobbling a bit under the deformations in the track, no longer dampened by a steer-by-wire system.

And second, even at speed it was exhausting. It required all of her strength to haul the wheel around, and the force was already hurting her wrists.

But she couldn't stop now, not so close. Not here, not today.

What ensued was one of the craziest stretches of any race Kallen had driven. She took the widest line into every corner, and while it allowed her to carry more speed through the corners to alleviate the weight of the steering, it meant she had to travel a longer distance through the corner and hence her lap times were tanking. Suzaku was right behind her, but Kallen was not letting him through.

Through the first sector, pain. So much pain. She had torn a muscle in late January while trying to emulate Suzaku's fitness and it had hurt less than this; bearing the brunt of being the rudder for seven hundred and forty kilograms of flying steel and carbon between her arms. She torqued the wheel with all her might, every corner a struggle, a question of whether she could muster enough strength, summon enough of a force to tick down the two hundred and fifty two by just one more. One corner at a time, just-

Kallen screamed, hideous, vicious, ugly, deep sound rising from deep within her throat. She was rising up to the hairpin, and with less than a lap since the issue had arisen, she already was feeling the searing pain, both acute and aching, through her arms and reaching into her torso.

If she had not set her mind to getting her strength and endurance fitness up over the winter, it would have been impossible. Even with it, she was already having to move past putting her nose to the grindstone and slamming her face against it, only just about just about able to keep the wheel torqued with all the power her arms had at their disposal.

She was utterly breathless, even in her new fitness, her entire forearm soaked in blood that ran like the Amazon river delta down from her hands and wrists, settling in a pool down on her torso. She was hanging on by her fingernails, she felt her fingernails being torn away by red hot pliers, felt her bones and muscles get stabbed again and again and again, another knife being slid into her arms with each passing corner.

She could not allow her concentration, her self-induced torture to fall away for even a moment. She may as well be putting the knives into her arms herself. It could stop at any moment. It could all stop at any point Kallen wanted it to. She could wave the white flag, she could just let Suzaku past, call it a day, let it all end and be brought to hospital, right now. She wanted to stop. She couldn't drive any more.

But not now. Not so close. She could not falter now.

She bit her lip so hard it joined her arms in the bloodletting. No matter what, no matter how much Suzaku pushed, no matter how much her arms complained, Suzaku would not pass. Fuelled by the concentrated power of sheer spite, tenacity, bitterness, small minded hatred, anger, at waiting three years, she was not going to let a power steering failure ruin this.

Kallen was running as fast as they could, pushing like she had at Britain, or Spa, Suzaku was keeping pace, it was just the pair of them blasting around, with Suzaku trying to pressure her, trying to squish her under his thumb like a bug, which compounded her physical destruction as she tried to cajole her arms into giving a last spurt of energy. The wheel was trying to stop her, Suzaku was trying to stop her, every single thing in this seven thousand square foot enclave of hell was trying to put the heat up to eleven, to boil her into vapour like lakes of fire.

But Kallen's fury overrode her pain, more resentful, determined bitterness than woman. She simply continued grabbing the car by the collar and dragging it kicking and screaming around the lap, ignoring the screaming pain skewering every cell in her body.

As the laps ticked over, with each corner a torture session, a conscious endeavour where the only objective was to keep the lead, she realised something. Suzaku was not being held up by Kallen. He was driving more or less at the same pace as her. He wasn't trying to attempt a move, but she could not shake him. He was trying to do what he had done in Bahrain of 2018.

He was trying to sweat her into a mistake.

Ironically, Suzaku had reversed the trick that Kallen had played on him in the marathon in Belgium. He was just going to keep on her rear, and wait for a mistake, as Kallen sat in the oven, trying to manage her broken car while knowing that Suzaku was just lying in wait to eat her up if she showed a single gap in her platemail. She had to drive flawlessly. No more strategic conservation, no more games, it was just a prolonged slugging match, the cars so unbearably close that a slip of paper could only just about be slipped between them. Suzaku was just sitting on her rear diffuser, trying to psyche her out.

But he was running out of laps, and though Kallen's arms were absolutely obliterated, ripped out of their sockets before being blown up by a mass of TNT and crushed under a mountain, they were still, somehow, obeying Kallen's distant commands. She would tell them to go over the trench to be shot as they crossed no mans land, and obediently be massacred they would. Even as the agony reached indescribable levels, worse than when her hands had been literally on fire, there was a degree of separation. She just ignored the pain, slogged through it with nothing but her grit and determination. Kallen's vision of a world only encompassed by the Suzuka circuit, all else removed, shrunk even further, her solipsism reaching new lows; there was only the next corner. All there was in the world was the next corner, how she would navigate it and how she would defend through it while not overwhelming her broken extremities, broken but not defeated.

Yet. She just had to keep going forwards, only forward.

As the wee small hours dwindled away, she became more reckless, with Suzaku not once having moved from his position, sat right on her rear end, though perhaps sensing that time was running out, he was beginning to attempt a move, first into the hairpin.

Kallen was able to get the better exit, but it took all her strength to do so. She physically felt the muscles in her arm rip themselves apart, tearing and shredding and cutting themselves up and pull themselves to pieces in a desperate attempt to satisfy their masochistic host.

But she was holding, she had just about kept ahead. The first sector was where the steering was heaviest, with the long, sustained curves utilising the cars masses of downforce to direct a lot of lateral forces which Kallen could only keep at bay with her own strength. However, while the lines she had to take through this sector were unconventional and lost her a lot of time, the lack of braking zones did not make it conducive to an overtake, and so once again Kallen's one weak spot was covered off.

For the rest of the lap, it was a mixed bag. The Degners were fine, with Kallen using the throttle and brakes to do most of the steering, however the hairpin required a delicate balance, Kallen deliberately slowing just a bit on the exit to force Suzaku out of the throttle so he could avoid rear ending her, what might be impolitely referred to as a brake check. But whether or not the move was kosher, it was necessary.

Kallen went into Spoon high, before cutting hard down low to shut off a move. Suzaku got a better exit and pulled up alongside, finally able to take advantage of a weary Kallen, but Kallen was on the inside for 130R, and unlike her brother was in no mood to concede it. What was never a two wide corner became one, with Suzaku having the better momentum out of it, about half a car length ahead as they headed for the final chicane, but Kallen still had one more card to play before Suzaku could call this prolonged slugfest finished.

As Suzaku tried to cement the position under braking, he overcooked the deceleration and while he leapt a good bit ahead of Kallen in the slowing down phase, he had sailed past the first apex, making the line to the second apex more acute. Kallen saw this and broke early, going around the outside and getting a much smoother line, carrying more speed and exiting faster than Suzaku, even if she was nominally behind him.

As Suzaku accelerated out of the Casio chicane and up towards the line, Kallen boomed out around the far side, before switching back. She was behind him, but closing, closing, had such immense overspeed with the cleaner exit, move to the outside, pull alongside, pull nose to nose, and pull ahead, only by half a car length as she looked up, they were coming to the stripe, crossing the line, the chequered flag was waving, and the race had mercifully ended.

Kallen had done it. She had survived Suzaku's onslaught, his unceasing advance, had weathered the storm, and had, with a broken car, just about held on.

Resisting a barrage of pressure, she had won the Japanese Grand Prix.

"YYYESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"

She roared in pain, viciously hollering her agony out to the world for now there was a world to hear. She repeated her roars of celebration mixed with torture and joy, though as the drive to win subsided, no longer necessary as a motivating force to endure her torment for just that bit longer, as the adrenelin faded, and her pseudo-astral projection gave way to the reality that she was Kallen Kōzuki, driver for Camelot, nineteen years old, native of Shinjuku Japan, and all the context that came with the sudden return of reality, however the pain definitely won out over the euphoria of victory, and the euphoria of a job well done, an opponent well endured, and her screams now shifted from having a just an accent of pain to now being howls of torturing, throbbing, stabbing agony, as the aches of the torn muscles up and down her arm set in, all at once.

"AAAAHHH… AAAAAAAAAAAHHHGHHAAAAAAAGHHH!"

* * *

"…yes, and Kallen has been nursing some kind of problem for several laps now, Diethard, as they come out of Spoon, Camelot aren't telling us what the problem is, but Kallen has been under pressure from Suzaku for over ten laps. She hasn't cracked, but Suzaku is just sizing up a move, sizing up a move as they charge down the back straight, it's the last lap and if Suzaku wants to make a move stick he is going to have to make it now, into the Casio chicane as they go up to 130R, and- oh, oh is Suzaku going to do to Kallen what Kallen did to Naoto around the outside? Oh so close!"

Jeremiah's teeth clenched as they went two wide into the high speed sweeper, however they just about made it work, with neither driver giving way or lifting out of the throttle. As they passed through the corner, Diethard picked up the narration.

"Suzaku is just ahead, just about, and he has the inside line for Casio, but Kallen gets it all back there, has she got anything left? He hasn't cemented the move yet, but it looks- oh, oh he's gone deep, he's locked up just a bit into the corner, and what can Kallen do? Cut in a little bit early, straighten up the car earlier and get on the power earlier, that should give her the better run to the line. It's gonna be a photo finish, who will it be? Suzaku's just ahead, can he make it three in a row, or can Kallen- she's going faster around the outside to the line, pulling just ahead, and I think- yes, yes she has! To the flag, finally, after three years, it's redemption day, Kallen will come to the black and white chequered, Kallen Kōzuki wins the Japanese Grand Prix! Ahhh…"

Diethards celebratory sigh was interrupted by Kallen letting out a roaring bellow so loud and so fierce in pitch that it almost hurt his ears, simply an animalistic cry. As Diethard recovered, Jeremiah took back the baton, commenting "I'll tell you, for the last ten laps you could throw a blanket over the pair of them they were that close. But Kallen Kōzuki, a winner at home at last. She has held off the reigning champion, and finally picks up a trophy at Suzuka."

Both Diethard and Jeremiah let the point sink in, as the television view switched to the grandstands, in jubilant celebration, before Jeremiah resumed.

"Well the crowds are going insane, they love her and she loves them, they're breaking ranks, the Japanese flags are waving furiously in the rain, and they see Kallen's opportunity to become the world champion grow and grow, a win in Monaco, a win in Britain, a win in Belgium, and now a win at home, she is now on her wind down lap, doubles very joyous indeed as- er, ahem.

Jeremiah paused, finding the display distasteful, however it was happening; the stands were emptying, almost flooding out, with the entire crowds gathered for miles around leaping onto the track, making it just a sea of people, interspersed with Formula cars, driven quite a ways below their limit for fear of running over anyone. Shaking his head slightly, Diethard took back over.

"Now… what's… what's happening, and I don't quite approve of it, is that the crowds in the bleachers and grandstands are now going onto the course, vaulting over the corrugated barriers and flooding the track, now that is incredibly dangerous of course, there are drivers who haven't yet finished the race who will be going at full speed while these people are on the track. Now, we have Kallen Kōzuki, Japanese, followed appropriately by Suzaku Kururugi, Japanese, and Naoto just a bit behind making it an all-Japanese podium, the second time that has happened this year. However, for examples of a single nationality winning at their home Grand Prix, we would have to go back… the 1982 French Grand Prix, and several British Grands Prix in the nineteen sixties. It has been a long time since a home audience has enjoyed a national success, particularly as this sport has become so international. The seed Kyoshiro Tohdoh planted has sprouted, and I am sure he can take some pride in that as we wish him a speedy recovery."

Pausing for a solemn moment, Diethard cleared his throat and continued "Now, the crowd ought to keep off the course, this doesn't mean they are keeping off the course as they swarm around Kallen's car in celebration, the car is now having to stop to avoid running someone over, and I don't think it'll be going anywhere, that car is just surrounded on all sides by throngs of fans, but I'm not sure if that's a situation Kallen is entirely uncomfortable with, as she just soaks it in. It's been a long time coming, and I've no doubt she is just taking in all this energy, this frenzy. Team radio."

There was a pause, before Diethards voice was replaced by that of a jubilant highlander, Kallen's chief engineer, who sounded absolutely ecstatic.

"Well- ahaha, you had us going there Kallen, but you did it, you won the Japanese Grand Prix! You slowed over the last ten laps, what was the problem?"

Another pause, before a rather less jubilant voice came in.

"Argch…" Kallen began.

"Sorry, couldn't hear that?"

Kallen's radio paused, before she tried to explain "Please get-", before her voice fell away.

"One more time?"

Clearly irritated, Kallen roared "Get the fucking medical car down here, I can't get out, my shoulders, my shoulders are fucked… I need help, I need help out of the car."

"Oh my goodness." Jeremiah exclaimed, eyebrows rising. "It's not as if the fans around the car are stopping her from getting out, I think something might be wrong, I think that's why she was slow. We'll have to see, but Kallen sounded in considerable pain there. Now, where is the medical car?"

* * *

 _Li Xingke – 191 (5 wins)_

 _Gino Weinberg – 163 (1 win)_

 _Naoto Kōzuki – 157 (1 win)_

 _Kallen Kōzuki – 155 (4 wins)_

 _Rolo Lamperouge – 144 (1 win)_

 _Suzaku Kururugi – 111_

* * *

 **~G1ll3s**


End file.
